


Plasticine Soul

by AltUniverseWash



Series: The Analog Starlight [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adult Trolls Live On Alternia (Homestuck), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternia, Alternia is Terrible, Alternia-Focused, Alternian Empire, Artificial Intelligence, Beforus (Homestuck), Beforus Ancestors, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Class Differences, Computers, Crimes & Criminals, Cyberpunk, Dancestors - Freeform, Death, Eldritch, Everyone Is An Adult, Existential Angst, Existentialism, F/F, F/M, Government Agencies, Government Conspiracy, Grief/Mourning, Heist, Identity Issues, Infidelity, M/M, Memories, Military Backstory, Multi, Organized Crime, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Kurloz Makara/Meulin Leijon, Queerplatonic Kurloz Makara/Mituna Captor, Queerplatonic Mituna Captor/Meulin Leijon, Queerplatonic Relationships, Science Fiction, Secrets, Social Issues, Technology, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, cosmic horror, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 67
Words: 136,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltUniverseWash/pseuds/AltUniverseWash
Summary: Aranea Serket and Meenah Peixes once led a motley collection of rejects and outcasts - disgraces to their blood castes and outlawed from Alternian Society. But if you wanted something messy done without anyone looking too closely, they could help you out - for the right price. That all ended one day and none of them much like to talk about it.When Aranea and Meenah are approached by a mysterious benefactor with deep pockets and vague requests, they're suspicious. But then they're given an offer they can't pass up: A chance for their past lives to be wiped clean. A chance to have their inner-most needs and desires fulfilled in ways they never thought possible. And all they need to do is a single job - a simple heist for the mystery client.By the time they realize what's really happening, it's too late to back out. They must discover the truth behind their enigmatic patron and unravel the truth of what happened to them a half a sweep ago - before their very world is destroyed.
Relationships: Damara Megido/Latula Pyrope, Damara Megido/Rufioh Nitram, Meenah Peixes/Aranea Serket, Meulin Leijon/Kurloz Makara, Mituna Captor/Kurloz Makara, Mituna Captor/Latula Pyrope, Porrim Maryam/Meenah Peixes
Series: The Analog Starlight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866583
Comments: 36
Kudos: 35





	1. A Ways Down the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger/content warning: As general warning, this fic contains general violence (use of guns, fighting, etc.), language (both explicit swearing and implied language that may be disturbing or unsettling), and themes of trauma/mental health/distress/anxiety/depression. If you find any of these to be general triggers, please read with caution.
> 
> **Some chapters may have specific trigger/content warnings which will be presented at the beginning of the relevant chapters.**
> 
> This fic uses a date system consisting of 24 perigees per sweep, with each sweep being just over 2 Earth years.
> 
> [Check out the character theme playlist!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXq6jwF_gimVScbt7tl4HGFukRNPmtbQP)

**12th Perigee’s Eve, 475th Sweep of the Reign of Her Imperious Condescension**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

MC > W3 D1D 3V3RY7H1NG Y0U 45K3D!   
MC > W3'R3 0N 0UR W4Y N0W…   
MC > 83773R H0LD UP Y0UR 3ND 0F 7H3 FUCK1NG D34L!   
? < I assure you that I am nothing if not   
? < Trustworthy   
MC > W3'LL FUCK1NG 533   
MC > 4R4N34 PU7 4 L07 0F 5H17 0N 7H3 L1N3 F0R 7H15   
? < Aranea isn’t my concern   
? < Not anymore.   
? < Just do your jobs and everything goes away.   
? < The Legiscorpus won’t even know you exist!   
MC > 7H47 W47HN'7 7H3 0NLY 7H1NG!   
MC > 4ND Y0U FUCK1NG KN0W 17!   
? < How does one present an exasperated sigh over a terminal?   
? < I promise you this   
? < I will not deviate one iota from the terms of our arrangement!   
MC > FUCK   
MC > F1N3   
MC > W3 D0N'7 H4V3 4 CH01C3   
? < A most astute observation, my friend.   
MC > D0N'7 FUCK1NG C4LL M3 7H47

Mituna Captor pulled the wetware headset off and set it into his lap. He pressed his hands against his temples and rubbed small circles where the deep ache was starting to set in. Too much time in the wetware lately – too many hours spent burning silicon on the edge of the wire, poking into places in the Felt he wasn’t supposed to be. Too much time spent hurting late at night.

Mituna closed his eyes – focused. He wasn’t in the Felt anymore – he was in a van. A short, blocky pile of junk that still used an outdated compression drive that could barely keep it moving fast enough. The extra layers of armor lining the sides didn’t help on that account, even if they did make Mituna feel at least a little bit safer about what they were doing.

A soft squeeze on the top of his leg – he blinked heavily and opened his eyes, turning to see Latula Pyrope smiling at him from her seat next to him in the cramped quarters of the van. She had on a jumpsuit in a pattern of teal digital camouflage – useless for concealment, but stylish. At least she was wearing body armor. That made Mituna feel a little bit better.

“You good?” She mouthed – the van’s improperly tuned engine was too noisy to make quiet conversation even a remote possibility.

Mituna nodded. It wasn’t  _ strictly _ true but it was… true enough. You didn’t spend as much time as he had in the Felt without little bits and pieces of your mind breaking off from time to time. Occupational hazard.

Across from Mituna, Damara Megido rolled her eyes and leaned forward – close enough that Mituna could hear her when she spoke in a loud stage whisper.

“Fuckin’ get this shit done and we all get to go home and eat the Perigee grubsauce, you know what I mean?” She winked and Mituna blushed – he was fairly sure he knew what she meant. She grinned, leaning back in her seat.

“Four minutes!” Meulin Leijon called from the seat next to Latula. At least she had on an outfit that wouldn’t likely be visible from space. “Ready up!”

A shuffle of activity in the van as the rest of them got ready, checking weapons and shifting in place to get ready to jump out. Mituna couldn’t see him on account of the solid firewall blocking off the front of the van, but he knew that Kurloz Makara would be nervously shifting the driver’s seat as they approached their destination.

Latula raised up the rifle she had in her lap, pulling back the bolt to check the chamber. A black carbine with a collapsible stock – Mituna wasn’t familiar enough with the low-tech hardware to know what it was called. Didn’t matter – it spit bullets at what you pointed it at and Latula knew how to use it.

With a heavy sigh, Mituna hefted the wetware headset again and slipped it over his head. Immediately, he felt the intrusive sensation of something picking at his brain as the connection was made. The spot in his temples throbbed and his vision blurred, then resolved into the dim green glow of the Felt.

MC > Y0U 7H3R3?   
MC > 7HR33 M1NU735 0U7 H3R3   
AS < Yes I'm here   
AS < 8e ready to take down security   
AS < Once I open the doors   
MC > 17'5 4 FUCK1NG 84NK   
MC > 7H15 15 G0NN4 5UCK   
AS < It's not a 8ank   
AS < Legiscorpus doesn't care a8out it

Mituna frowned to himself as the words hung suspended, unwavering, in front of his eyes. He wasn’t sure that whether or not their target was  _ technically  _ a bank mattered all that much.

MC > 7H3R3'5 G0NN4 83 GU4RD5!   
AS < We've 8een over this a dozen times   
AS < It's Perigee Eve   
AS < It'll 8e light - str8 shot!   
MC > 5H3'5 G01NG 1N 0N 7H15 0N3   
MC > 1 5W34R 70 G0G 1F 5H3 G375 HUR7

“Two minutes!” Meulin shouted over the rattling noise of the compression engine. Mituna felt another squeeze on his leg.

“Rock and fuckin’  _ roll! _ ” Damara called out, ending with a laugh that blended into the background noise.

MC > Y0U 7H3R3 Y0U WH173 N0153 GRU8FUCK3R?   
? < Vulgarity doesn’t become you Mr. Captor.   
? < That was a joke of course   
? < It’s basically all you have these days, right?   
MC > 7H3Y GR48 7H3 D15K 4ND 7H3N WH47?   
? < You bring it to me.   
? < Everyone’s various debts go away…    
? < Permanently.   
MC > P0RR1M?   
? < You let me worry about that particular Ms. Maryam.

The van lurched and Mituna struggled to stay seated as they banked around a corner, then rolled back in the other direction. They were slowing down now – rolling over rough ground. Mituna thought he remembered the approach ran over some kind of cobblestones or something like that. Right up the back door.

Mituna concentrated, letting his thoughts move inside of the Felt. The wetware headset interpreted everything with a kind of delayed analog fuzziness that most people found disorienting. Mituna enjoyed the sensation – the feelings of letting go and riding along the currents of aether inside of the Felt. The greentext that ran right into your brain until everything was a haze of blurred sensation and motion and feelings.

Reaching out, Mituna looked for the systems that were hanging outside in the Felt. Unsecured pathways that led to channels that led, eventually, to doors. Doors that gave him access to all the secret places that no one wanted anyone to see.

Vaguely, he was aware that the van had stopped. He heard Meulin shouting at the others – a stumbling rush as they piled out of the van and a loud  _ slam _ that almost jarred Mituna out of the Felt-stupor he was falling into. He was alone.

But not really  _ alone. _

AS < They're out.   
AS < Can you jack local surveillance?   
MC > FUCK, Y0U W4NN4 8UY M3 D1NN3R F1R57?   
MC > 1'V3 G07 FULL 5P3C7RUM F33D G01NG 1N   
| LIST -I -L   
CAMERAARRAY1 6.3.12.3 (UNSECURED)   
CAMERAARRAY2 6.3.12.4 (UNSECURED)   
CAMERAARRAY3 6.3.12.6 (UNSECURED)   
AUDIOMONITOR 6.3.13.1 (SECURED)   
MC > 4L1V3 4ND 4MPLF13D 848Y!   
AS < Shut up and mirror the feed   
| LOOPBACK -A -T 30 -B   
FEEDBACK LOOP ENGAGED   
LOOPING LAST 30 MINUTES WITH BLENDOVER   
| FEEDBACK -A SERVERPLAYER   
MIRRORING ALL OUTPUT TO SERVERPLAYERS

Mituna sensed the world around him  _ expand _ and suddenly his senses were bombarded with an array of sights and sounds. You never really got used to the feeling of expanding in the Felt – of suddenly receiving and coalescing sensory input from dozens of sources. It was just another wave that you had to learn to ride on.

All at once, he was aware of his friends – all them, all at once. He could see Meulin, Latula, and Damara running along the side of the alley in a crouch, holding carbines and decked out in hard-shell body armor that could stop a rifle round. He could see the van parked in the alley – could even see the vague shape of Kurloz Makara hunched behind the wheel, muttering to himself nervously.

| PT -R ALLTEAM   
COMMS PATCHTHROUGH ENABLED FOR ALLTEAM

Mituna: Are you there?

The sensation was a strange one – a speaking, but not a speaking – reaching out consciously with his mind to touch the others. Except they would hear him through their radio headsets, and he would be able to hear them.

His headache grew – this was a lot to ask of his brain, even with the wetware headset handling a lot of the load. The words in front of him blurred a little as he focused.

Mituna: Are you there?!   
Meulin: Yeah, we hear you   
Meulin: We’re about to hit the back door.

Through the blend of sensation coming in through the camera and audio feed, Mituna saw the three women move to the back door of the building they had parked behind. From the outside – from all possible indications – it looked like a nondescript office building in the middle of a run-down section of town. But their research had shown that there was so much more there.

Mituna: Wait for me to kill the inside security.

| LIST -S -L   
THERMALSENSOR 6.3.14.2 (SECURED)   
MOVEMENTTRACKER 6.3.14.3 (SECURED)   
SENTRYGUNARRAY 6.3.14.4 (SECURED)   
DOORMONITOR 6.3.14.1 (UNSECURED)

Mituna smiled to himself, because they made the same mistake everyone made. After all, who cared if you properly secured your doorbell?

| RR -DOORMONITOR 6.3.14.1   
ROOT ACCESS GRANTED TO DOORMONITOR   
| ESCALATE 6.3.14.1 ADMIN   
ADMIN RIGHTS GRANTED TO DOORMONITOR   
| PERMISSIONS 6.3.14.0 -SELF -FULLADMIN   
AUTHENTICATE VIA NETWORK   
FULLADMIN PERMISSIONS GRANTED TO NETWORK

He laughed.

MC > 53CUR17Y 15 0FFL1N3   
AS < Good! Tell them to move their fucking asses!

Mituna: Aranea says to move your fucking asses!   
Damara: She wants a look at my ass, all she needs to do is say the word.   
Meulin: Shut up and get ready to breach.

One of the cameras faced the doorway, and the images came flooding into Mituna’s mind – Latula putting something on the doorway. It wasn’t clear from the camera, but Mituna knew from experience that it was a small shaped charge designed to blow the latch clean off the door.

The sound came in through one of the audio monitors – a muffled  _ poom  _ that barely even registered. The camera feed showed the door blast open and the three women were through the door.

Mituna shifted his mind – reaching out instinctively to the next camera – seeking a feed with a view of the inside. The interior of the building was dull and gray and just as indistinct as the outside. Somewhere within, Mituna knew that there was a vault. The next step in the security. With one side of his mind, he watched his friends swiftly move through the hallways of the building with their weapons at the ready.

With the other side, he reached into the Felt and looked for the next door.

MC > 480U7 7H3 K3Y Y0U PR0M153D?   
? < I didn’t forget my end of the bargain, Mr. Captor.   
FILE RECEIVED: ACCESS.PK   
? < Use it in good health, of course.   
MC > G0D Y0U'R3 50 FUCK1NG W31RD.   
| RUNKEY -ACCESS.PK   
ACCESS KEY RECOGNIZED…   
VERIFYING…   
KEY VERIFIED   
DEVICE VAULTSECURITYARRAY 6.7.1 (SECURED) LOCATED

Mituna: I’ve got the vault – get to the far end of the building and it should be right there, down one flight of stairs.   
Meulin: You got it.

Mituna let himself relax for just a second, trying to fight back the pain that was boring in through his temples. If this went off as planned, he was going with Latula to somewhere dark and isolated. Somewhere they could just be alone together for a while and not have to worry about anything.

There was a sudden, twisting sensation and for a second Mituna thought that Kurloz had started the van up again – but the camera showed they were still parked in the alley. Mituna reached out with his mind and poked around – looked through the feeds to try to identify what had changed.

NEW SUBNET LOCATED: 7.X.X (HISEC)   
NEW DEVICES FOUND:   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)

Mituna could feel the breath in his chest stop in place and his heart began to race. This was a military-grade security network!

Maybe the Alernian Army had a post nearby and he was picking up their noise through the Felt. It wouldn’t be the first time – usually the devices would at least show their ID codes if they were on a local network. Mituna relaxed a little – it wasn’t the end of the world.

He moved along the edges of the network – looking through all the points of entry he had. Reaching…

Something wasn’t right.

Mituna: Com check!   
Latula: We’re here – what’s wrong?

They weren’t on the camera feeds. Which wasn’t right, because the camera feeds were still working. Everything was still working. The van in the alley was still visible – Kurloz still sitting behind the wheel and talking to himself,  _ exactly _ like before– 

Mituna’s blood went all ice-water all at once.

Mituna: You need to get out now!   
Meulin: Shut the hell up, we’re about to breach the vault!   
Meulin: Get ready to pop that thing open!   
Mituna: **You need to get out _now!_**  
Latula: What the fuck–

****

****

MC > WH47 D1D Y0U D0?!   
? < My apologies, this was necessary.   
? < You’ll see in good time.   
? < Or not, I suppose – that’s up to your friends now.   
NEW DEVICE ID RECOGNIZED:   
THERMALSENSORARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)   
CAMERAARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)   
AUDIOARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)   
COMMARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)   
FELTDEFENSE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
SENTRYGUNARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)

Mituna’s hands flew to his face, his mind still blurring from exposure to the Felt. Faintly he could hear the sounds of gunfire in the distance – it sounded as if he were underwater.

The ache in his temples was worse now – growing – becoming a white-hot blast of searing pain that threatened to bore into his skull.

Mituna screamed – he screamed and clawed for the wetware headset – tried desperately to muster enough energy to pull it off.

Everything was going black – he could feel the ice-pick claw inside of his mind now but he still had enough of his conscious self left to know what this was.

_Military-grade Felt defense._

His screaming turned to a high-pitched whimper of pain as the wetware continued to blast into his head and he didn’t even have the energy to raise his voice anymore. He’d heard about this – had learned about it in training, even. But the  _ experience  _ of it… nothing could prepare you for that.

Another thirty seconds and he’d be gone. Not dead, but close enough that it wouldn’t matter.

Something was ripping upward like his skull was being torn open and his mind was suddenly free and the sound of the outside world came in a deafening roar.

Kurloz yelling at him.

The screams of gunfire.

Echoes reverberating off every surface.

Unfiltered, blistering chaos all around him.

The heavy wall of void-black hit him... and Mituna simply _wasn't._


	2. Dead Drop

**Seven Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Assigned Government Housing District 8D, North Alternian Capitol**

Aranea didn’t use the wetware anymore – not since the last time. Even though it was infinitely slower to type out commands on a keyboard instead of simply _thinking_ them, she refused to dip her mind back inside the Felt like that. Instead, she was content with a small portable display that hummed and burned as tiny phosphor dots blinked in and out of being, forming the words on her screen.

? < My representative will be coming by shortly with my offer.  
? < I have been informed she is nearly there.  
AS > I understand the need for discretion but why not just come yourself?  
? < Oh my dear  
? < If you truly understood my position, you wouldn’t bother to ask that question.  
? < I am in a truly unique set of circumstances that preclude this from happening.  
AS > You're right, I shouldn't have 8othered to ask.  
? < That’s a good girl.

She fought the urge to slam the keyboard down, instead adjusting her glasses in a particularly angry manner and switching off the display. Two days ago now that she’d gotten the contact from the person who only showed up as an undefined character on her terminal. Who only talked through text but never on the hardline phone and never-never on the radio phone that they had set up.

A person with mysterious motives, no explanations, and only a vague promise of exorbitant compensation for a relatively simple job.

Because Aranea was a fucking idiot, and she would obviously fall for whatever bullshit she was told, apparently.

Except that she wasn’t. The sinking feeling had started in her gut as soon she’d read the first word of text from the mysterious would-be-employer. Financial desperation meant she would entertain the idea, but every form of good sense meant she was going to take precautions.

She reached out to the desk in front of her and retrieved the bulky radio phone from its cradle. Adjusting the frequency, she dialed in a familiar set of numbers.

Aranea: You there?  
Meenah: What’s up, bitch?

Aranea heard scrambled laughter on the other end of the line and smiled.

Meenah: Terminal trace was another dead-end. Sorry.  
Meenah: Just an abandoned building in the rust district.  
Aranea: Was there a relay?  
Meenah: Yeah, but they fried it.

“Fuck,” Aranea said – more to herself than to Meenah. She was worried that whoever was behind the mysterious job had been covering their tracks, so this wasn’t overly surprising. Wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t mean she had to like it – she wasn’t used to not having an advantage.

Meenah: I’m fucking out.  
Meenah: If they can burn their trail, they can have someone watching this place.  
Meenah: I’ll see you in a few, bitch.

The handset went dead, leaving only the faint buzz of the background static humming in the empty office. Aranea blew out the breath she realized she’d been holding, puffing a stray bit of hair out of her face.

That sinking feeling in her gut wasn’t going away.

* * *

A loud _buzz_ from the intercom on the wall let her know that someone was there. Mostly likely the mystery person’s contact, but you never knew. Aranea pressed the intercom down.

“Who’s there?” She let go of the button and waited for the answer.

“I’m here to meet with Aranea Serket. Our mutual friend with the unreadable name said you’d be expecting me.” The voice was low, a little bit breathy.

Aranea buzzed the guest in – that would get her through the door. As she walked down the hallway and up the flight of stairs to Aranea’s office, additional measures would kick in. Scanners that checked for possible weapons, an electro-sensor array that looked for hidden recording or transmitting devices, and a scrambling device that would disable any kind of wetware device that a guest might happen to be using. Nothing that would cause permanent injury, but they’d be sore in the morning.

The guest knocked on the heavy, metal door that served as the final gate into the office itself. Aranea slid over to her terminal and brought up the security camera that pointed down into the landing at the top of the stairs.

Even in the grainy view of the monitor, the woman standing outside was pretty. Black tank top and what looked like tattoos all over her arms. Long, black hair. Tall.

Aranea walked to the door and slid back the heavy bolt that held it closed – the door swung open with a grating creak and the woman on the other side was standing and smiling down at Aranea.

Yeah, she was gorgeous. Tattoos all over her upper body, covering every piece of exposed gray skin. Pierced lips quirked up in a bemused smile. Hands on her hips, not moving to shake hands with Aranea.

“You’re Aranea Serket?” she asked, her voice sounding like it was covered in rich velvet. Aranea nodded.

“Porrim Maryam. Nice place you’ve got here.” The sarcasm in her tone was readily apparent as she cast a scornful glance around the drab office. Aranea was painfully aware of the peeling paint and cracked drywall. She was also painfully aware of the automated defense system buried behind the cracked drywall.

Sometimes looks could be deceiving.

“You’ve got business to discuss, so let’s do that,” Aranea said shortly. Porrim nodded and walked inside.

Once Porrim was in the office, Aranea closed the heavy door and bolted it securely. She was still looking around, as if trying to decide if touching anything was worth the hours it would take to scrub the filth off.

“You’ve spoken to our mutual benefactor?” she asked – it was a strange way to put it. Aranea was under the impression that Porrim was working for the person with the invalid display name. “How much has he told you?”

 _He_. That was one more piece of information than Aranea had before. Not much, but something.

“He said that there was a retrieval mission in the works for myself and a few others. I told him I had a group I normally worked with that I trusted, and he said that was fine. Then he told me you’d be by with details and that was it.” Aranea glared over the top of her glasses at Porrim, who simply shrugged and continued looking absolutely unflappable.

“I have certain technical details, yes.” She smiled, reached into a pocket, and produced a small data diskette. “You have wetware, I assume.”

Aranea shook her head. “I’ve got a terminal.” She gestured toward the table.

“I suppose,” Porrim said with a grimace. “How very _analog_ of you.”

The wetware was more analog than anything – the bio-interface elements had never actually been perfected before the government funding ran out.

Aranea didn’t say anything – just nodded with a little grunt of agreement and took the diskette from Porrim.

With the diskette inserted, the terminal immediately began to check and load the contents – Aranea had installed safeguards against malicious software after the incident with her wetware, so this meant that the terminal automatically created a temporary partition to sequester the new data until it could be reviewed.

After a moment, the disk drive whirred, clicked, and an image appeared on the screen.

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ │  
│ WELCOME │  
│ │  
│ Ms. Serket, if you are reading this then my associate has found │  
│ you in good health and at least somewhat willing to cooperate. │  
│ │  
│ I understand that both yourself and many of your former associates │  
│ have fallen on situations of considerable difficulty. │  
│ │  
│ I would urge you to think about this carefully before you choose │  
│ to reject my offer. │  
│ │  
│ What I propose is simple – I need you and whichever trusted people │  
│ you so choose to infiltrate a particular facility and retrieve a │  
│ data disk within. This facility will be guarded and it will have │  
│ some level of electronic and Felt security that may make it a │  
│ challenge to get inside. I trust your judgement in how you choose │  
│ to approach the specifics. │  
│ │  
│ If you choose to do this, I can promise that your debts will be │  
│ wiped clean. ALL of your debts, Ms. Serket. │  
│ -Scratch │  
│ │  
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

Aranea looked back at Porrim, who was still standing in one place and making a pointedly show out of not touching anything.

“What does this mean?” Aranea asked. Porrim only shrugged in response.

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕  
│ │  
│ 1) Introduction │  
│ 2) Object summary │  
│ 3) Imagery │  
│ 4) Felt data │  
│ 5) Schematics and blueprints │  
│ 6) Security data │  
│ 7) Incentives │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

Porrim’s voice cut across the quiet of the office – “He said you’d be able to figure it out from there.”

She turned to leave, but as she was halfway to the door Aranea called after her.

“Wait!”

Porrim stopped.

“I don’t understand! Why me? Why does he – Scratch? Why does Scratch want any of this?”

Porrim shook her head. “I don’t know and I don’t care, darling. I’ve got my own reasons for doing this and, honestly, that’s none of your damn business.”

Before Aranea could think of how to properly respond to that, Porrim was gone and the heavy entryway door had been slammed behind her. Once the door was properly bolted, Aranea returned to her terminal.

AS > You want to tell me what the hell is happening now?  
? < Did you review the documents yet?  
? < I feel that they would answer many of the mundane questions you might have.  
AS > 8ullshit! Why not just 8e str8 with me?!  
? < You’re implying that I’ve been deceiving you.  
? < Something I assure you is entirely untrue.  
AS > I’m implying that I have no idea who you are or what you’re about.  
AS > Scratch? What is that – some kind of Feltwave handle?  
? < I suppose you could look at it that way.  
? < The Felt is something I’m quite familiar with, after all.  
AS > Gr8. Fucking 8rilliant! A goddamn Felt jockey who won’t get his hands dirty.  
? < Something you would know a great deal about, Ms. Serket.  
AS > What’s that supposed to imply?  
? < I imply nothing – simply state the facts as they are.  
? < I would strongly suggest you review the supplemental material I provided.  
? < If you still want to talk afterwards, that would be fine.

Aranea could feel her entire body starting to shake. She fought to get the shivering under control, slowly counting down from sixty in her head and struggling with her breathing. She had a strong feeling she knew exactly what Scratch had placed under the menu option labelled “incentives.”

She would be calm. She would be at peace. This was not going to hurt her.

Aranea rebooted the data diskette that Porrim had provided. When the menu came up again, she hastily tapped the number seven on the keyboard and waited a moment for the next menu to load.

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕  
│ │  
│ INCENTIVES │  
│ 1) Go back… │  
│ 2) Aranea Serket │  
│ 3) Mituna Captor │  
│ 4) Meulin Leijon │  
│ 5) Latula Pyrope │  
│ 6) Damara Megido │  
│ 7) Kurloz Makara │  
│ 8) Meenah Peixes │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
│ │  
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

Aranea was immediately struck by the perfect, too-good-to-be-coincidence mapping between the people on this list and every single one of her regular associates. All the ones who’d been on that last job together. Everyone who knew the same buried secrets and had the same group of skeletons kicking around in the back of their closets.

It had only been by divine grace or sheer luck that they’d even made it out the last time – now someone wanted to drag them all back together for another go.

Her hand trembling, Aranea reached out to her keyboard and quickly tapped the number two key…

The screen changed, and she began to read.

And as she read, she began to understand.

The trembling wasn’t getting any better.


	3. RTM

**Six Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Gold District, North Alternian Capitol**

Mituna woke up covered in sweat and his head felt like it was about to explode again. Not to say his head had literally exploded before – that kind of thing had a decidedly _final_ feel to it. But it was once again backed up with the behind-the-eye pressure and in-the-temples throbbing that happened when he spent too long down in the Felt.

There was more there – something else that dripped right below the surface of his conscious mind, like a sliver that wouldn’t quite leave him alone.

It had been a half-sweep already – a half-sweep since he dove below that electric wool and roamed the depths of the Felt. A half-sweep since he got to be the lucky one.

Latula was next to him in the cushion pile, still asleep. At least for the moment, she didn’t look like she was fighting with the nightmares that so often kept her up at night. Mituna smiled – she looked peaceful, and that made him feel a little bit better in spite of the headache that kept building.

He slid out of the pile and stumbled his way toward the washroom, hoping that he still had some of the high-grade painkillers he’d bought the other day. It was always a risk trying to get the good stuff – draw too much attention and you’d be on the shit list of some beat cop trying to catch the Legislacerators’ attention. Always a risk – but sometimes worth it.

Cabinets and drawers all turned up empty on anything stronger than basic headache pills. They wouldn’t do jack shit, but Mituna swallowed a handful of them dry anyway. He didn’t really _need_ his liver, after all.

He took a hard look in the mirror – the face staring back at him looked so much older than he was. Fifteen sweeps – that was it. Looked like twenty. Felt like thirty-five.

In spite of it all, he missed the Felt. Missed the warm sensation of dropping under. Missed the sudden rush of energy as all his senses came alive when he hooked into a network. Missed the pure, unadulterated _energy_ of it all. Hooked right into his brain…

That was the problem, of course.

Mituna stumbled back toward the pile, ready to lay down and hold Latula. He would try to fall asleep again, but more likely he’d just lay there until she woke up and then they could go eat something and talk and try to forget.

_Then the fucking phone range._

Latula stirred and rolled over as Mituna dashed to the phone, hoping to grab it before she was fully awake. She didn’t deserve this bullshit.

He grabbed the receiver on the hardline phone.

Mituna: Who the fuck is it?  
Aranea: Hi.  
Mituna: Oh fuck – do you know what time it is?  
Aranea: I’m painfully aware of it, yes. Do you have a minute?  
Mituna: I do not, I guess. Fucking head is killing me.  
Mituna: I wanted to go back to sleep.  
Aranea: Bullshit. You’re not sleeping again. You still living with Latula?  
Mituna: None of your fucking business.  
Aranea: I need to talk to her too. Or at least for you to tell her what I’m about to tell you.  
Mituna: She doesn’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to you.  
Aranea: What if I told you I could wipe your file with the Legiscorpus.  
Mituna: Fuck you – don’t even joke about that.  
Aranea: It’s not a joke.  
Aranea: They know about your pill habit, by the way.  
Mituna: What the fuck?  
Aranea: Legiscorpus has a file on your two. They didn’t forget about you like you thought, and you didn’t cover your tracks. At all.  
Mituna: It’s not possible… I dropped a bomb on the way out…  
Aranea: We need to talk. Today.  
Mituna: Where?  
Aranea: Same place we planned the last job.  
Mituna: It’s gone  
Aranea: I know. Three hours.

The hardline went dead, leaving only the steady hum of the carrier tone behind. Mituna’s head felt like it was going to pop and he could feel the boil of anger growing underneath that. He wasn’t sure which made him feel worse.

Latula groaned on the pile and opened her eyes. She stretched and sat up, looking right at Mituna.

“What happened?” she asked, a sudden look of fear falling onto her expression.

Mituna sat down on the pile next to her and rolled over, leaning onto her shoulder. She looked so _worried_ and he couldn’t blame her, after everything that happened.

“Aranea called.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Mituna saw Latula’s expression fall even further – she shook her head back-and-forth… back-and-forth.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do whatever it is.”

“She says Legiscorpus knows about us.”

Her eyes widened and tears began to form. “No! That’s not possible! After everything we did to make sure they couldn’t find us… after everything we burned behind us. After what happened to _you!_ ”

Mituna put a hand to his forehead and grimaced. “I know… but I believe her.”

* * *

**Olive District, North Alternian Capitol**

Once upon a time, two dozen perigees ago, it had been a nice little bakery. A nice little bakery where some not-so-nice people had gathered to plan out a heist that they thought would make them very rich or very dead. It had seemed like a worthwhile gamble at the time, when all the odds were calculated.

Turned out there was a third outcome after all.

Now the bakery was a blasted-out husk in the middle of a ruined block. None of their crew had been inside when the explosive charge went off – that had felt intentional. It wasn’t intended to kill them, but to warn them. Legiscorpus or the Alternian Army or _whoever_ had decided they were worth keeping alive, for future reference. But they needed to stop or that calculus would shift.

It had never been rebuilt – the bakery was in the mid-blood section of town. Owned by an olive blood or something like that. It didn’t matter anymore because now it was owned by a bunch of bloated ratbeasts that poked their noses around looking for insects.

The light was still dim – the dark season was in full effect and the scant hours of daylight wouldn’t be on them for another several hours.

Mituna and Latula stood on the edge of the brick-strewn pile of rubble, hands linked together. Mituna could feel Latula shaking and squeezed her hand tightly.

“We’re okay,” he said, unconvincingly. “We’ll be okay.”

“I don’t like this,” she said. “I don’t like whatever she’s playing at. We agreed to stop – we should’ve stopped!”

They should’ve stopped long before they did, but they both knew that.

“It’s okay. We’ll hear her out and then we can walk. There’s no harm in hearing her out.”

Trying to convince her, or yourself?

He wasn’t sure it was true – the last time…

There was a tumble of debris and Aranea appeared from behind a half-chunk of a wall. She was wearing the same blue waistcoat she’d been wearing on that final, fateful day. Mituna growled under his breath, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Latula squeezed his hand tight and he could feel her trembling.

“We don’t want whatever it is,” Latula called across the burned-out ruin of the former bakery. “Leave us the _fuck_ alone!”

Aranea walked closer, shaking her head. She didn’t speak until she was close, standing on the broken chunks of someone else’s dream. “We don’t have a choice anymore.”

“Bullshit!” Mituna hissed. “There’s _always_ a choice! I’d think you of all people would know that. How’s it feel, anyway, not being able to ride the Felt anymore?”

“I manage,” Aranea said, adjusted the edge of her waistcoat nervously.

“Just tell us what’s going on so we can go home,” Mituna said, his voice sounding hollow and tired. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Aranea reached out and handed him a diskette. “It’s a copy, take it. Assume you’ve still got a terminal, at least.”

Turning the diskette over in his hands, Mituna stared.

“Legiscorpus is still tracking us,” she said quietly. There’s evidence on there. They know about you and Latula.

“I can handle Legiscorpus,” Mituna said.

Trying to convince her, or…

“They put an Authority Legislacerator on you.”

Mituna’s head went all _fuzzy_ near the top and he blinked heavily. “What the fuck did you just say?”

He’d heard her fine. The Authority – the people that didn’t exist. Stripped of their blood names and their former allegiances alike. Not the sword of the Empire – that felt too on-the-nose. More like… the hidden dagger.

“I don’t know who, but the tasking log is in there. God knows how this guy got it, but it’s real.” The closer Mituna looked at her, the more _scared_ Aranea looked. This wasn’t another long-con on her part – she was genuinely terrified.

“Fuck,” Mituna said. He looked over at Latula, who was staring with a wide-open mouth.

“No,” Latula said. “This is bullshit! We’ve been quiet! We took their message and we got _out!_ ”

Aranea laughed – a sound devoid of even the slightest traces of good humor. “You think that _matters_ to them? There’s a reason they left us alive. Now I think they’re closing back in. Getting ready to call in the favor they did us by letting us all stay alive.”

Mituna balled his free hand into a fist and punched at his thigh. “Fuck! What the hell do they _want_ with us?”

“Not them – not the Authority,” Aranea said. “Someone else – someone who goes by Scratch. He’s the one who brought me this information. Well… an associate of his did. I’ve never met him in person, although I have spoken on the telNet a couple times.”

Mituna glared. “Okay, so what does _he_ want?”

He could feel Latula squeezing his hand, rhythmically. From the rise and fall of her shoulders, Mituna guessed she was trying the breathing exercises she’d learned to deal with… everything.

“He wants us to break into a facility and retrieve a data disk for him. We drop it with his associate and suddenly – _poof_ –” she spread her fingers apart in an exaggerated way. “Everything goes away! The Authority forgets all about us and as long as we keep our heads down we’re fine. Scratch also gives us enough money that we don’t have to worry about running jobs anymore. Nice bonus.”

It sounded too good to be true, of course. “A _facility?_ You want to be a little more specific?” Mituna cocked his head. “After all, the last _facility_ we tried to–”

Aranea put up a hand to stop him – she was shaking too, he could see. “It’s not like that! It’s just a little informal bank in an old part of bronze town. The kind of place that people store things they don’t want Legiscorpus to know about.”

That did not, contrary to what Aranea might’ve thought, make Mituna feel much better. “Assuming you’re talking to me because you need someone to break into their security? What is this – terminal hardline access? TelNet remote?”

Aranea was shaking her head. “No. You’d be in the Felt.”

A shiver ran up Mituna’s whole body. “Excuse me?! The fuck did you just say?!”

“You heard me,” she looked right at him. “You’d be in the Felt again. Just for this one job, of course.”

“You do it then. You were at least as good as I was.”

She sneered. “You know I _can’t_ do that and you know exactly why.”

“It’s not our problem.” Mituna started to turn when he heard Aranea clear her throat.

“Go home and look at it and then tell me that. That’s all I’m asking.”

* * *

Mituna and Latula were back home an hour later and Mituna was still reeling from the whole experience. This was ridiculous – but the teeth of doubt were already there, gnawing at the back of his mind. Aranea might be a complete bitch, but she had no real reason to _lie_ to them. She’d been through the same wringer. Even though she tried to come out the other side still doing the same shit that’d gotten them all into trouble the last time.

When they were safely home, Latula told him that she really needed to lie down and she was back on the pile, sleeping fitfully. She was having the dreams now – she’d wake up in a few hours feeling like she hadn’t slept a second.

Mituna sat up by his terminal, playing with the diskette in his hands. He knew that something was deeply wrong here, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wanted to go lie down with Latula and hold her. Help with the nightmares. Wake up, make love, go get something to eat. Just keep _living_ as much as they could.

He fired up the terminal and inserted the disk. After a moment, the screen lit up.

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ │  
│ WELCOME │  
│ │  
│ Mr. Captor, if you are reading this then Aranea has made a copy │  
│ of the diskette I gave to her. Of course, she has no idea that │  
│ the copy you now have is ever-so-slightly different than the one │  
│ I provided to her. Namely, this message is for your eyes only! │  
│ │  
│ I know what happened a half-sweep ago. I know about the Fleet │  
│ depot and everything that went wrong. Believe me - I only want │  
│ to HELP! I am no friend to the Alternian Empire in general or to │  
│ the Authority in particular. All I ask is that you help me to do │  
│ one thing to hurt them in a very particular way. │  
│ │  
│ Doing this will require you to don wetware and enter the Felt once │  
│ more, and for that I am truly sorry. Unfortunately you are the one │  
│ member of this motley association who can do this, given the │  
│ unique circumstances of our friend Aranea. │  
│ │  
│ Please consider my offer, and don’t hesitate to check the small │  
│ incentives contained herein. │  
│ -Scratch │  
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

The next screen showed a menu – “incentives” was listed right there. Mituna opened the menu item.

His face fell – it was _all_ there.

Their last job.

The incident with the wetware.

What happened to Aranea while they were diving the Felt together.

The ambush.

And what had happened to Rufioh.

An indicator in the corner of his terminal was blinking – Mituna opened his telNet console.

? < I see you’ve finally decided to at least consider my offer.  
MC > WH0 7H3 FUCK 4R3 Y0U 4ND H0W D0 Y0U KN0W 4LL 7H15?  
? < I think the more pertinent question  
? < The one you should be asking  
? < Is how the Legiscorpus knows all this.  
MC > 8ULL5H17!  
? < Is it? They’ve been tracking you and your matesprit.  
? < Ask yourself - why would they do that?  
? < What do they stand to gain from leaving you alone?  
? < Perhaps they are waiting  
? < Until you two become useful again  
MC > 5HU7 UP!  
MC > L34V3 L47UL4 7H3 FUCK 0U7 0F 7H15!  
? < It’s adorable that you two think you have a real choice.  
? < I suppose you do though  
? < Either inevitably become the puppet of the Authority  
? < Or come work a simple job for me!  
? < Not much of a choice, I would think.  
MC > 7H15 15 5UCH 4 L04D 0F 5H17!  
MC > WHY U5?! WHY M3?!  
? < Does it really matter?  
? < You’re the ones I want to to do this.  
? < And if you do, I’ll make sure you’re free  
? < Don’t you want to be free?  
? < Don’t you want Latula to be free?  
MC > FUCK!  
? < I’m sending you a location  
? < If you want to consider this, go there.  
? < If not… I wish you the best of luck with the Authority  
FILE RECEIVED: LOCATION.GT

The telNet connection severed and Mituna was left staring at the burning amber of the phosphor glow, wondering whether or not it was worth it. Whether or not the odds were better to jump into the unknown that Scratch represented, or try to face whatever the Authority ultimately had planned for him.

Mituna looked over at Latula again – she had grown still and her breathing had evened out. The dream had passed, at least for a little while. How long would it stay like that? And what would the Authority do with a former Legiscorpus enforcer who’s main skills were related to hurting other people?

Cursing to himself, Mituna opened the file he’d received.


	4. Hard-wired

**Six Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**  
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

Damara was about six drinks in that evening, but she was still feeling pretty good about herself – the bio-mod enhanced liver saw to that nicely. It was just enough to keep her from having to  _ feel _ too much. The music blasting through the tiny, fully-packed venue took care of the rest – olive blood noise metal. God those olive bloods knew how to fucking  _ party! _

It was even more intoxicating than the alcohol – no amount of bio-mod would take away the rush of being packed in with a hundred other trolls all moving together in the open floor that made up most of the club. There was an automated bar at one end with a little bit of seating around it, but mostly folks would come up, grab something to wash the feelings away, and then get back to dancing aimlessly in among the throng of like-minded bliss-seekers.

In the middle of the floor, everything else dropped away. Noise blasting in her ears, people shoving and jostling, the warm trace of the liquor inside her – everything went down to a dull roar.

Some people found the noise to be unbearable – it reminded them too much of what they’d been through – but Damara found that it helped to drown out thoughts she’d rather not have. It hadn’t been the gunfire, after all, that had gotten to her. There’d been a sensation in her mind as something  _ other _ crept in on top of who she was, and then she’d suddenly found herself more  _ suggestible _ than she’d been before.

People had died. She didn’t like to think about it. Didn’t like to think about anything.

This helped with that.

Shoving her way back through the crowd, Damara moved toward the bar again. A seventh drink would sit nicely with the rest – a nice cap-off for the night. At least before the inevitable eighth and ninth and so on and so forth. Blame the Alternian Army for that one – they didn’t want their commandos getting poisoned while they were off wiping worlds clean to make a new home for more Alternian colonists.

As Damara made her way to the bar, she noticed a woman that was sitting there looking right at her. Tall, long hair, lot of tattoos. Nice looking.

But this lady was looking right at her, and that made Damara suspicious. Product of experience.

She smiled at the beautiful woman, who smiled back. Damara walked up to the automated bar and punched her selection into the drone console. Straight-up liquor – mostly alcohol.

The woman at the bar was standing next to her.

“You like what you see?” Damara asked, raising an eyebrow.

The woman looked her up and down, her eyes guarded. “Maybe.”

Damara smiled. “You want to get a better look?”

The woman smiled back at her and let her eyes linger. Damara leaned in. “It’s fine – I do this kind of thing all the time… I’ll meet you in the back…”

* * *

The bathroom in the back was occupied by a couple that were already in the process of getting extremely intimate with each other – Damara shuffled them out the door and leaned up against the wall and waited.

The tall, gorgeous woman walked in a couple minutes later and latched the door behind herself.

Presumptuous of her…

She smiled and leaned toward the woman, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.

“And what’s  _ your _ name?” Damara let her fingers dance down from the woman’s shoulders, along her tattooed arms. The woman smiled.

“Porrim.”

“That’s a  _ pretty _ name–” she let the alcohol-slur in her voice  _ really _ stand out. “For such a  _ pretty _ girl…”

One hand on the shoulder, opposite hand grasping Porrim’s upper arm.

With a sharp twist, Damara shifted her weight and Porrim was rotated in place – Damara looped an arm up around her neck and braced along the back of her head, holding her in a choke.

“Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing here?” All traces of the alcohol were gone from her speech – the bio-mod tech really did a  _ great _ job processing the stuff out. “Mind telling me why the fuck you’re so eager to get me alone?”

Porrim choked out a protest – Damara applied pressure to stop it.

“I come here for the music and the booze – not for the random company. The fact you were scoping me out and willing to follow me back just like that.”

Another choked protest. Damara let up just a little. “What was that?!”

“I– I need to talk,” Porrim managed to get enough of her voice out for that useless bit of trivia. Damara started to tighten her choke-hold. “Wait… please…”

“Tell you what. I’ll give you one good chance to explain yourself. Make it good, or I might break your damn neck just to be safe.”

“Depot job–” she just barely managed to get the words out. It was enough. Damara’s grip relaxed – not completely, but enough that Porrim could probably breath properly.

“What did you just fucking say?” Damara asked in a low growl.

“The depot job! I don’t know what it means!”

Damara tightened her arms around Porrim’s neck. “I don’t believe you!”

“It’s–” she gasped, the breath barely wheezing in her throat. “It’s what he told me to say!”

“Who?!” Damara snarled.

I’m ready to crack this bitch’s skull on a fuckin’ toilet!

“Scratch!” she gasped out. “He’s called– Scra–” the rest was just a kind of  _ hurk _ noise as Damara bore down on her throat.

Porrim floundered in her grip and began tapping furiously on her arm with one of those pretty long-nailed hands. But pretty, as Damara knew from personal experience, didn’t mean she wasn’t  _ dangerous. _

Damara fought to bring herself down – to work past the enhanced adrenaline bios that’d been thrown in along with everything else. They made temper an issue. This one… she felt like maybe she was maybe the kind of dangerous where this wasn’t  _ necessarily  _ the right approach.

Deep breath.   
  
Breathe.   
  
Breathe.

Damara let Porrim slide from her arms. The troll fell to her knees on the floor of the bathroom, gasping for air and putting her hands to her throat.

“Shit!” she cried out, still clawing at her own throat. “Shit!”

Damara took a step back, ready to start the whole process again if needed. “You mind telling me exactly who the fuck you are, what the fuck you want, and who the fuck  _ Scratch _ is?!”

She reached out, as if seeking some kind of support – Damara stepped back.

“Please…” Porrim was starting to get her voice back. “I need to show you something.”

She started to reach into a pocket but Damara shook her head. “Not here – let’s get outside.”

Porrim nodded and struggled to her feet – the two of them walked out, with Damara following at a reasonable distance. They passed another couple looking to get into the bathroom and Damara threw them an exaggerated wink.

“Just how we like it, yeah?” She grinned, but the grin vanished as soon as they’d passed the couple, replaced only with a stone expression that would’ve looked far more at-home on a battlefield than in the middle of an olive blood club.

* * *

They went right out the front door and down about a block before Damara finally stopped.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said shortly. “What was it you had to show me?”

Porrim groaned and reached into her pocket, retrieving a slip of paper. “Oh god… my neck…”

“Shouldn’t have tried that shit back there.”

Porrim handed her the paper with her eyes turned down to the ground. The paper was rough and had text neatly type-written on it. Damara thought that it maybe looked like the work of an electric scribe, but she wasn’t sure.

Ms. Megido,   
  
I do hope that my missive finds you in good health. It is my understanding that some of the combat modifications that you’ve been equipped with over the years have a tendency to deteriorate under certain circumstances. It is also my understanding that the only reason you still have them is the cost-prohibitive nature of removing them from your body versus simply allowing you to retain those precious few gifts you were bestowed by our mutual friends in the Alternian Military science division.   
  
To be blunt: I know about the operation you and several others undertook a half-sweep ago against the Alternian Military Depot. I even know  _ why _ you were on this mission – a detail that even you and your compatriots have not been made privy to.   
  
I will spare you the long-winded version – I know you don’t even have a terminal. Get in touch with Aranea and she’ll fill you in on the details. Porrim has been given a bit of basic information, although she doesn’t know the specifics of your situation.   
  
In the end, it would be a shame if Rufioh had to die for nothing, right?   
  
-Scratch

Damara crumpled the paper as she made a fist. “What the hell?”

Porrim looked genuinely confused. “I don’t understand! I was specifically told not to read the paper or…” she trailed off.

Fuck – she’s just an errand girl.

“It said you’d have information for me. How about you start with who the fuck you actually are and why you’re doing this?”

She shifted her feet and looked extremely uncomfortable. “I… don’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit!” Damara took a step toward her, closing the distance and staring up at Porrim. She was taller than Damara by a good few inches, but Damara was stronger by far.

“Please!” Porrim was shaking. “I was told that Scratch is getting you and your old crew back together for some kind of job. He said that you would all have your own reasons to do it, but he seemed pretty confident that you would!”

“What’s the job?” Damara asked, getting even closer. “And what’s the reason we would do it?!”

“I don’t know!” Porrim shouted, taking a step back and stumbling before catching herself. “This is all I got!”

Damara took another step forward and put a hand up under Porrim’s chin. The tall troll was crying now – streaks running down her made-up face. “Where is he? Where’s this  _ Scratch _ fuck?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know! He never shows his face – just talks through the telNet and letters and stuff!”

Porrim wasn’t lying. Damara knew that there was no real well to catch a practiced liar but… something in this woman’s face told her all she needed to know. She was  _ scared _ of whoever this Scratch person was. Absolutely, stone-cold  _ terrified  _ of him.

“I swear this isn’t personal,” Porrim said, her voice starting to crack. “I’m just supposed to meet up with a bunch of you! I already spoke to Aranea and I’m supposed to talk to a couple more of you!”

Damara felt all the tension starting to relax – seemed like the adrenaline mod was finally shutting down. Soon it would flood her body with a series of hormones to allow it to self-regulate again.

She grunted. “I know.”

Unclenching her fist, Damara turned away from Porrim. “It’s just… things went badly the last time.” She didn’t elaborate – if Porrim didn’t already know, it wouldn’t be important.

“I’m sorry.” Porrim's voice was still and quiet and surprisingly sincere. “I didn’t know.”

“Fuck, why would you? Next I’ll be dropping war stories in every conversation.”

There was another pause, then Porrim’s voice again – even quieter.

“The tattoo on your right shoulder…” She trailed off and Porrim saw her reaching out a hand, as if to touch it. “I saw it before at the bar… it’s…”

“A commando unit. I know. I kept it to remind me of where I’m not.”

“But you’re… you’re not a higher blood…”

“Let’s just leave it at  _ there’s a lot you don’t know about me _ and call it a day,” Damara snapped. She didn’t feel like getting into the specifics with this woman who she knew mainly as the nosey bitch who she’d just tried to strangle in a public restroom.

“I– that’s fair,” Porrim said, her voice soft. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Damara nodded. “Fucking right. Now if there’s nothing else you want, get the hell out of my sight before I fuck you all the way up.”

She watched as Porrim walked off, still rubbing her neck. She had some more questions.

Questions that only Aranea Serket could answer.


	5. Mission Crucial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains descriptions of wartime/battlefield violence.

**Sweeps in the Past...**  
**Colony World 5672A**

“Sergeant!” The voice called out over the edge of the battlefield. Meulin heard it, but it was still hard to process. Still faint.

“Sergeant!” A ringing in her ears that was gradually fading, bringing back the rush of sound that was all around her. The cracking rumble of gunfire coming from everywhere – the scream of the bronze blood next to her with the brand-new hole in the middle of his chest.  
  
Meulin pressed down on the wound, feeling the pulse of the blood and knowing that even if luck was on her side, it would be too late. He’d lost too much blood already.  
  
“What is it?!” she screamed back at the rust blood who was tapping her on the shoulder.  
  
But she was gone already – another  _ snap _ in the air next to her and the top of the rust blood’s head turned into a rusty spray and the body crumpled into the trench next to Meulin and the dying bronze blood.

“Just hang in there!” She screamed, as if it would make a damn bit of difference. She turned to the gold blood next to her in the trench.

“Tell me that fucking Felt array is online!” But there was something wrong about the gold blood – he wasn’t moving. Was too still for the chaos around him. Meulin shifted him over and… yes, those were definitely intestines.

“NO!” she screamed and rolled back, the bronze blood momentarily neglected as she clutched her mud-coated carbine to her chest. With a sudden clarity born of absolute necessity, Meulin lifted the carbine over the edge of the trench and fired a few rounds in the direction most of the gunfire sounded like it was coming from. The answering volley told her that she wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of surviving if she so much as stood up.

She rolled back down in the trench and bumped into the bronze blood. His breathing was ragged and uneven – the blood was still pumping out of the wound.  
  
Radio was down – it had taken a piece of shrapnel that had gutted it during the opening salvo of their engagement. The only piece of tech left was the gold blood’s wetware. That had been at least keeping them in touch with command – right up until the gold blood stopped answering her commands… the reason for which was obvious now.

It was her only chance. It was _technically_ possible. Everyone in command of a unit was required to have the interfacing installed, even if they weren’t Felt techs.

It was a risk – a gamble. She’d been exposed to the Felt once in training and even that had _hurt_. But this was a battlefield – the chances of surviving the experience intact were slim to the point of almost being nonexistent.  
  
The rain of bullets screaming like angry hornets above the trench made her mind up for her. Meulin crawled to the gold blood’s body and carefully pried the Felt hardware off his head.

She placed the wetware over her own head and the horrible sensation of disassociating from herself washed over her. Everything went black, then a deep green as the Felt resolved itself.

**It hurt so much to look at.**

Meulin struggled to focus, her head throbbing. The noise of the gunfire and concussion bombs dropped off into the background as her mind’s sensory input was overwhelmed by the experience of the Felt.

CONNECTING TO REGIMENTAL COMMAND…  
USER AUTHENTICATED  
SERGEANT MEULIN LEIJON  
COMMAND OVERRIDE ENGAGED  
ML > REQUESTING CLOSE AIR SUPPORT!  
ML > UNDER FIRE  
REGCOM < Provide coordinate set  
| TRANSCOORD  
54.32.21.3 X 32.56.23.5  
COORDINATES VERIFIED  
REGCOM < Coordinates are danger close  
REGCOM < Confirm?  
**ML > FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!**  
REGCOM < Confirmed  
REGCOM < Stand by for incoming  
CLOSE FIRE SUPPORT VERIFIED  
**!!! DANGER CLOSE !!!**  
**!!! SEEK COVER !!!**

She ripped the wetware headset off, tossing it aside and tucking herself as deep in the trench as she could. She slithered down into the foul-smelling mud that was mixed with the blood and body parts of her former squad. The bronze blood wasn’t breathing anymore – she felt bad about that.  
  
**In the distance, she could hear the scream of the turbojets as they blasted low in across the war-scarred field.**

The low rip of the heavy guns.  
  
The first rolling roar of the explosions as the concussion bombs started falling. **That was something she _felt_ more than _heard_.**  
  
And then, blissfully… **nothing.**

* * *

**Five Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Little West Alternia, North Alternian Capitol**

Meulin woke up next to the bronze blood’s body.

But that wasn’t right.

Meulin woke up next to a body.

No.

Meulin woke up in her pile in an apartment, and there was a troll lying next to her in the pile. A woman who she couldn’t remember the name of. Snoring gently – bare skin covered by a blanket from the pile.

She wasn’t sure _whose_ apartment this was. Probably it belonged to the woman sleeping next to her. Unfortunately she was still unclear on the woman’s _name_ or precisely _why_ she was here in the first place. Not that it really mattered.

Her clothes were off, so she figured they must’ve at least done _something_ fun the night before. That was usually how it went. Something fun, then sleep. Then nightmares. Always nightmares.

Luckily Meulin wasn’t the sort to wake from the nightmares with a start or a scream. Her world just drifted back in, seamlessly blending from past to present as if a shade was being slowly rolled back.

Without making a sound or disturbing the sleep of her companion from the previous night, Meulin slipped off the pile and began to gather up her clothes. She’d scattered them all over the apartment, so the experience must’ve been fun in the moment, at least. She couldn’t manage to find her left sock and wasn’t intending to spend any further time looking for it – they could have that one as a souvenir.

At least her gun was still there! It had cost her a decent chunk of her stipend to get the Army service pistol off the black market, and the familiar feeling of it was as much a comfort as any vague promise of actual protection it offered.

Fully dressed and with the pistol tucked away in her pants, Meulin was out the apartment door without making a sound. She snuck down the steps to the building and out the front door. Once she was out on the street again, she relaxed and began to walk normally.

It was only after a block that she realized she was being followed.

* * *

She let her pursuer follow her for another two blocks and around a corner while she got her bearings and decided on what she wanted to do. In hindsight, the woman tailing her wasn’t exactly subtle – tall with tats all up and down her arms. Long hair, piercings. She stood out enough to be noticed, and she didn’t have the first clue about what she was doing.

Meulin took a turn, doubled back, and then jumped quickly into a blind alley around a corner, forcing the woman to close the distance and come around the corner without knowing what was waiting for her.

What was waiting for her, of course, was Meulin – she concealed herself at the front of the alley and waited for the woman to walk past. That was when she stepped out, drew her gun, and cleared her throat loudly.

The tall woman stopped and turned. As soon as she saw the gun, her shoulders slumped.

“Of course,” she raised her hands above her head and she was smiling, which seemed like an odd response. “The last one of you almost choked me out, so I guess this is an improvement.”

Meulin narrowed her eyes and trained the pistol on the woman’s head. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

“My name is Porrim Maryam – can we please skip the part where you have an extended conversation about why I’m here and just let me deliver the message I’m being… _incentivized_ to deliver?”

“I don’t know,” Meulin said, “can we please skip the part where you act like I’m an idiot and let me add a couple vent holes in your head-case?”

It had sounded a bit more clever in her mind than it did out loud, but Meulin figured the pistol would make the point for her.

Porrim drew in a long breath. She seemed oddly _okay_ with the way things were unfolding. Or at least she didn’t give a shit anymore, which was a sentiment Meulin could appreciate.

“Fine,” Porrim said. “I already spoke to Aranea and Damara. I’m just supposed to deliver something to you and then I’m done.”

“Deliver _what?_ ” Meulin glared down the sights of the gun. “I don’t talk to the others anymore.”

Porrim nodded. “I don’t know the specifics of what you went through, but… I’m sorry. I’m getting the sense that it was something bad.”

Legiscorpus was coming in toward the rear door. Meulin grabbed her rifle and set it up against the sandbags, switching the optic over to thermal imaging…

“Yes.” Meulin moved closer to Porrim. She looked at least a little bit nervous now – Meulin had the sense that she didn’t actually expect to get shot when this conversation had started, but she was reconsidering.

“Please – I’m just supposed to give you this paper and then you can go back to drinking until you forget your whole life or whatever the hell it is you people do.”

“Don’t need to drink to forget stuff…” Meulin muttered to herself. She slipped her pistol back into its holster in her waistband and took another step forward, holding out a hand. “Give me the paper and get the fuck out of here.”

All the tension in Porrim’s body went out all at once and she looked like she was about to cry from relief. She took out a small slip of paper and handed it to Meulin. Before Meulin even unfolded the note, Porrim was already halfway down the alley, walking at a brisk pace.

Meulin put the note away in her waistband next to the pistol and began to walk home.

* * *

The block apartment was a parting gift from the Alternian Army, along with a small bump in her perigee stipend above what the olive bloods normally got. It was right on the edge of the border between the lowblood district of the city and the midblood district where all the former low-tier officers got to hang their hats.

The inside could best be described as “austere.” Meulin had a good cushion pile going in the corner and a small dresser next to it where she tossed all of her clothes. Beyond that, there was a large viewscreen with a comfortable chair in front of it. Beyond that, she didn’t have much furniture. Reading was hard for her, so she owned no books. Her sole concession to communication with the outside world was a hardline phone in the corner of the room – she refused to even consider owning a telNet terminal.

The wetware felt like it was burrowing into her brain, but she could feel the explosions carried through the air even with her senses dulled by the neural connection…

Mostly her days were spent sleeping – that was something she could manage. Movies were usually okay too, even if she tended to lose the plot partway through.

She flopped down in the chair and pulled the note she’d been given from her waistband, unfolding the paper and staring down at it. The words blurred and shifted, but she squinted her eyes and was able to make them out.

Ms. Leijon,  
  
I know about what happened to you on Colony World 5672A so I’ll keep this short.  
  
I have a job offer for you. You and your friends.  
  
I know about the depot job.  
  
I’m offering you a chance to redeem yourselves in the eyes of the Legiscorpus and Alternian government.  
  
By which I mean I’m offering you a chance to disappear with enough money you’ll never have to want for anything but the casual sex you’re so fond of indulging yourself in.  
  
Talk to your friend Aranea if you’re interested.  
  
-Scratch

Meulin let the paper fall from her hands as she stared forward at the dead viewscreen in front of the chair. Everything felt fuzzy around the edges – less _real_ than it had before. She didn’t like to talk about what had happened. Only Damara actually knew any of the details – they’d both been fucked over by the same people, after all.

Her hands ran over the fabric of the chair, focusing on the rough texture of the woven cloth. It was a way to keep herself grounded – a focus on physical sensation. That usually worked for her, but it was getting harder and harder to _care_ about anything. She knew that eventually they would get tired of the loose threads and then… the trimming scissors of the Legiscorpus would make sure she never felt anything anymore.

After some time sitting in the chair, Meulin finally pushed herself to her feet and made the forever walk that was the fifteen feet to where her phone rested in its cradle. Without a second thought, she grabbed the handset and began to dial.


	6. Jumping-Off Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains descriptions of violence/gore as well as firearms violence.

**12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

“Two minutes!” Meulin had to yell to be heard over the sound of the van’s aging compression engine. Latula checked her Army-issue carbine again, making sure the safety was off and a round was chambered. It was nicer than what she was used to from her days as a Legiscorpus enforcer.

I’d love to know where the fuck Meenah got this from.

Not that it mattered all that much. But something had been feeling more and more  _ off _ about the job the closer they got to 12th Perigee’s Eve. Now the big day had arrived and Latula couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to end badly. Again.

She gave Mituna’s leg a quick squeeze. She wasn’t sure if he could even feel it when he was immersed in the Felt, but she wanted to let him know he wasn’t alone. It was hard to see him back in the wetware after what had happened the last time.

“Rock and fuckin’  _ roll! _ ” Damara laughed into the noise of the engine and she was grinning, holding her own rifle down in a low ready position. The enhanced adrenaline receptors would be kicking off soon – Latula hoped that wouldn’t be a problem this time.

_ This time. _

Last time had been different. They hadn’t been prepared – had walked into something that was completely out of their depth.

Latula swayed as the van took a corner – it was up on the rough now, the tires rumbling noisily over the decorative stone roadway that led to the back door to the bank.

It wasn’t exactly a bank, but they’d all taken to calling it that. It was a building with a big vault that stored valuables. It was a bank.

The van skidded to a halt and Latula pushed herself up into a crouch, her horns brushing the van’s low ceiling. Next to her, Meulin and Damara got up as well, holding their weapons at the ready. Mituna was zoned out – already in the Felt and pushing his way inside the security systems that would block their way inside.

Damara reached out with a free hand and placed it on Latula’s neck – a quick jolt of energy ran up her skin and she shivered. Damara’s mouth began to move, but Latula couldn’t make out what she was saying. As the noise of the engine cut off, she caught the last of it –

“–didn’t tell you how I felt about you before.”

The woman’s face grew deep red and she looked down – she maybe hadn’t meant for that to be heard, at least not right then. Latula glanced nervously over at Mituna and back at Damara, who still had her hand on the side of her neck. It was an issue they’d have to discuss later, all three of them.

At that same moment, they heard a pounding on the firewall in the front of the van’s passenger compartment.

It won’t be like last time!

Meulin moved past the other two women – the Sergeant in her was taking over – and opened the door to the van. She jumped out first, and the others followed. Once they had all cleared the van, Meulin closed the door with a loud  _ slam _ .

Not saying a word, the three of them began to move quickly toward the back door. It was Perigee Eve, but there was still a good chance that the bank still had at least a couple guards posted just in case the automated security systems weren’t enough. Guards who would be on high alert if they’d heard the stupidly noisy compression engine firing up in their back alley. And with Mituna working to break in using the wetware, they would definitely not be enough.

Mituna: Are you there?

The voice crackled in her radio headset – a bulky set of headphones that muffled her hearing but tied her in with the rest of her team.

Mituna: Are you there?!   
Meulin: Yeah, we hear you   
Meulin: We’re about to hit the back door. 

The door was heavy – armor-plated with a set of thick, reinforced hinges. But Latula knew from long experience that every door had a weak spot.

Mituna: Wait for me to kill the inside security.

Latula reached down to a pouch attached to her body armor and brought out a small shaped breaching charge – a tiny bit of explosive in a heavy metal shaping cone designed specifically to open just this kind of locked door. She settled in close to the door while Meulin and Damara took positions that let them keep watch while they waited for Mituna to disable the security.

It felt like forever before they heard his voice on the radio again – probably was only a minute or two.

Mituna: Aranea says to move your fucking asses!   
Damara: She wants a look at my ass, all she needs to do is say the word.   
Meulin: Shut up and get ready to breach.

Meulin waved a hand to Latula and nodded. Without a word, Latula placed the shaped charge on the door and set the detonator. She palmed the trigger for the detonator, stepped back, and waited.

It won’t be like last time!

She pressed down on the trigger three times – the shaped charge let out a barely-muffled blast and the door swung inward, its latch blown clean off by the explosive.

Latula’s heart was up in her chest as she went through the door after Damara. They had their weapons up, scanning left and right for any sign of guards. Down the plain corridors lined with drywall that undoubtedly concealed reinforced armor plating.

Mituna: I’ve got the vault – get to the far end of the building and it should be right there, down one flight of stairs.   
Meulin: You got it.

No one was home. The corridor and the offices off to the sides were all empty, dimly illuminated by the standby lighting.

There was only one place for the corridor to lead, and that funnelled them down to that flight of stairs that led down to the vault floor. They were there in a matter of seconds, gliding with practiced ease along the floor. No matter what any of them tried to say to the contrary, they were all in their element here.

“Latula, check the stairs. Damara, overwatch on top.” Meulin’s voice was sharp – she was back in command mode now. Latula swept past the other two and cautiously approached the staircase. The bottom was barely visible in the dim lighting.

It won’t be like last time!

She clamored down to the bottom, feeling her combat load rattling as she descended – thick armor plates and extra ammo for the carbine she carried. It felt excessive, but they’d wanted to come prepared.

Mituna: Com check!

Latula brought her hand up and thumbed the transmit switch on her radio. “We’re here – what’s wrong?” She could hear the worry in his voice even through the neural linked voice transcription – something was seriously bothering him.

Latula called back to the others at the top of the stairs. “All clear!”

They ran down behind her – all three of them were standing outside the vault door now.

“Just gotta wait for ‘tuna to crack this open,” Damara smiled. “Oh hey…”

Latula saw Damara look at her and a small frown crossed her face. “About earlier… I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

Latula could still  _ feel _ the touch on her neck. “It’s – it’s whatever. We’ll talk about it later. Cool?”

Damara grinned, her eyes scrunching up a little and Latula suddenly found herself wishing that none of this had to be the way it was.  _ None  _ of it.

The radio crackled in her ear.

Mituna: You need to get out now!   
Meulin: Shut the hell up, we’re about to breach the vault!   
Meulin: Get ready to pop that thing open!   
Mituna: You need to get out now!

Something was moving – a mechanical noise coming from…  _ inside the walls?! _

“What the fuck–” Latula realized she had her hand on the transmit switch and quickly moved it off. “What the hell is happening?!”

Meulin raised her carbine. “Fuck this shit.”

A sudden, intense realization. Latula slapped Meulin on the shoulder. “We need to get the fuck out  _ now!” _

Two panels of the walls dropped away and the world went into slow motion as two automated sentry guns emerged and began to rain hell down on the corridor.

If the guns had been properly calibrated, Latula would’ve been cut in half. Luckily they weren’t – a stray bullet hit her body armor with a loud  _ spang _ and she staggered. Damara was already running, turning to fire her carbine at one of the guns. It did enough damage to the mechanism to stop it from firing, but the other gun was still live.

Latula felt herself being dragged to the side of the staircase, into the shadow where the active gun couldn’t hit her. Meulin was already behind them, firing her weapon back into the corridor.

“You hit?!” Damara screamed – Latula managed to shake her head.

“Hit the plate!” she yelled back – the sentry gun had stopped firing once they were out of sight of its sensor, but the echo of the gunfire in such a confined space was overwhelming, even with the radio headsets to block some of the sound.

Meulin quickly dropped the magazine from her gun and pulled a fresh one from a pouch on her gear.

Meulin: Mituna?! What the fuck?!   
Meulin: Mituna?!

Nothing – he wasn’t answering and Latula got a horrible feeling in the bottom of her guts.

It’s just like last time!

Meulin: Kurloz, you there?!   
Kurloz: What the hell’s happening, kittybitch?   
Meulin: Check on Mituna, now!

She snarled as she cut off the radio and looked over at Latula and Damara.

“This was a fucking trap!”

Because the universe has a grim sense of humor, that was the moment when the vault door swung open. It was difficult to see from where they were hidden, but Latula knew that this was where the mysteriously absent guards had been waiting.

Time was still moving too slow – Latula felt like she was under water. She’d been shot at before, once or twice, but she’d never been in the middle of anything like this.

It barely registered when Damara snatched a grenade from her gear, pulled the pin, and tossed it toward the vault.

The explosion was thunderous in the small space, and the hot wind from the concussion explosion nearly knocked Latula on her ass.

Damara screamed and slipped around the corner, firing toward the vault. Not wanting to leave her friend, Latula followed shortly after with Meulin directly behind.

The concussion grenade had landed close to the other sentry turret, bounced, and exploded – the first two guards had been reduced to twisted masses of jade-green flesh on the ground. The next guard was stumbling, clutching at her ears, and the final one managed to just barely raise his rifle before Damara put three rounds through his skull and he hit the ground in a wet heap.

The stunned guard swayed, tried to pick up her own rifle, and then fell down in a daze. Ignoring her, Latula looked up at the sentry gun’s slot in the wall – it looked like the explosion of the grenade had fried its targets sensors, because it was swiveling around wildly without attempting to fire at them.

“We’re getting out!” Meulin shouted – she waved a hand and the other two ran after her up the stairs, back into the main corridor.

A hail of gunfire greeted them – Latula could see at least three more guards at the end of the hall – they had emerged from hidden compartments in the wall and ducked down behind portable metal shields. Latula threw herself down onto the staircase, using it as a natural trench to protect herself from the incoming hail of gunfire.

Latula shifted to check on Meulin and Damara – Meulin was lying on the stairs next to her, shaking – her eyes were wide.

Same as last time!

Damara pulled another grenade, ripped the pin off, waited a second, then threw.

A second later, there was a loud blast from the end of the hallway and a wave of overpressure swept by the staircase. The gunfire had stopped.

“Meulin!” Damara yelled, hauling the shaking troll to her feet. “We have to go!”

Latula screamed into her radio – “Kurloz get ready to get us outta here!”

Kurloz: ‘tuna’s doing bad, man!   
Kurloz: Gotta fuckin’ help him!

Latula led the way down the corridor with Damara supporting Meulin and holding her carbine with her free hand. The end of the corridor had turned into a mess of jade and olive ichor – the metal shields had channeled the majority of the blast from the concussion grenade back onto the guards.

She fought back the urge to throw up and walked fast, her boots tracking wetly in the gore that littered the ground. She tried not to think about that feeling. Not to think about what it meant.

Damara: We’re coming out now!   
Damara: Get ready to move!

Kurloz wasn’t responding, but the van was right there.

“NO!” Latula heard Meulin screaming from behind her and turned to see the troll pulling away from Damara.

“ ** _GET DOWN!_** ” The scream was drowned out by an electric buzz that rose up over them until it was coming from everywhere. Meulin was hauling Damara back toward the building. Latula began to run–

The black hard shells of the military drones came humming over the buildings and Latula felt something inside her fall away.

Everything was stopping – the world frozen.

She tried to scream, but the first concussion bomb hit and the wall of high-pressure air knocked her back.

Latula’s head struck something hard and the world went sideways.

Someone was dragging her back into the building – Damara – her face was grim with determination and splattered in olive-green blood.

Latula’s head rolled back as she lost consciousness.


	7. High Crimes

**Four Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Assigned Government Housing District 8D, North Alternian Capitol**

“I already know what’s in the file,” Meenah said, her voice crisp. “I don’t need a reminder.”

Meenah had been staying at Aranea’s office the last two days, sleeping on a makeshift pile on the floor and trying to tie up all the loose ends of their half-formed plan. They had decided that the best opportunity would be 12th Perigee’s Eve – it was a perfect time to ensure minimal security, but it also only gave them a few days to get their plan together. Meenah had worked with less, but not by much.

She’d been given the same diskette as Aranea – it had been waiting for her when she returned from the little errand that she’d been running in the Rust District.

From talking to the others, Meenah already knew what “Scratch” was planning. He wanted them to retrieve something and was using barely-disguised blackmail to get it. Behind every single promise of money or getting them off the radar of the law or the military there was a threat. If they  _ didn’t _ do what he wanted, things would get  _ so _ much worse.

“You’re not wondering what he’s even offering?” Aranea asked from where she was standing by the window.

“No.” Meenah looked back down at Aranea’s telNet terminal and frowned, tapping on the keyboard.

| ENCRYPT -T3912.PVK   
END TO END ENCRYPTION ENABLED   
SINGLE SESSION ENABLED   
| TELCON CA#1954   
TELNET CONNECTION TO CA#1954 ESTABLISHED   
MP > okay, fuckface, let's do this!   
CA < 8aby girl, you make my heart ache wvith that.   
CA < When hawve I evwer let you dovwn?   
MP > oh )(-ELL no we ain't doin this shit   
MP > i've got a list and you're gonna fuckin read it   
| TRANSFILE SHOPPINGLIST.TXT -U:CA#1954   
SHOPPINGLIST.TXT SUCCESSFULLY TRANSFERRED TO CA#1954   
CA < Whoa momma that's a big one!   
CA < You realize y'all got military grade wvetwvear on here?!   
MP > no S)(IT you fucking clown   
MP > can you get it or not?   
CA < Most of it I got in stock!   
CA < Friendly fella dropped me a line someone might be needing this.   
CA < Didn't think it'd be your fine ass!   
MP > we'll be over in a half hour you gross fuck   
MP > have our shit ready   
| TERMCON CA#1954   
TELNET CONNECTION TO CA#1954 TERMINATED

“He could give you a chance at your old life back,” Aranea said quietly, once Meenah was done typing. “I mean… isn’t it worth a shot?”

“You really bought into his bullshit, huh?” She stood up from the terminal and stretched, hearing her joints pop. “You think we can, what, magically get me un-declared as a blood traitor?”

“No, I mean–” Aranea stammered and looked around the room, as if searching for a way out of her own office. Meenah smiled like a fangfish about to move in for the kill.

“There are bridges you can’t un-burn.” She walked up to Aranea and looked her dead in the eyes. “Right, Serket?”

Aranea’s cheeks flushed cobalt under the gray of her skin and she shuffled in place, mumbling.

“Mmm-hmm.” Meenah turned away. “We’ve gotta meet Cronus in a half hour. He’s got the stuff and it looks like our friend Scratch already tipped him off to what we’d be buying, so this is probably another fucking trap.”

“If you’re so sure of that, why help us?” Aranea asked, her voice shaking. “Why bother?”

Meenah shrugged. She wasn’t entirely  _ sure _ why she was helping this time around, given how the last time had ended. She hadn’t been sure why she’d helped the last time either. She would’ve said it had to do with her history with Aranea, but that wasn’t quite it. It certainly didn’t help, but there was a lot more to it than that.

Or maybe there wasn’t.

Maybe she just got  _ bored _ and wanted something exciting to do.

It certainly wasn’t because of Scratch’s hollow promises. She didn’t need money – she’d been able to save herself plenty of that even as someone who was nominally a blood traitor. And Scratch didn’t have the power to reverse that, unless he happened to secretly be Her Imperious Condescension.

“Doesn’t matter,” Meenah said sharply. “Bitch, why can’t you just be happy we’re spending time together?”

Aranea blushed again and a half-smile crept onto her face. “Yeah.”

“Come on, let’s go see Crony.”

Aranea groaned. “I don’t want to see him.”

“ _ Bitch _ – I don’t know enough about the wetware to check it out. I need you there.”

* * *

**Bronze District, North Alternian Capitol**

To say that Cronus Ampora liked to live below his station in life was to use the grossest form of exaggeration. Nestled in the middle of the bronze section of the city, Cronus had set up a neon-lit monstrosity of a building. It was theoretically a repair shop for various vehicles – it did, in fact, function in this capacity at least some of the time.

The rest of the time – which was most of the time – it was a well-known source for black market goods. No one was exactly sure why the Legiscorpus hadn’t raided the place yet – rumor was that the Legislacerators used Cronus’ services themselves. Other rumors suggested that he gave up a portion of his less-desirable clients in exchange for immunity.

Meenah had no idea if any of the rumors were true or not, but if that greased-up piece of shit crossed her, he was going to be wearing his intestines for a scarf.

They arrived in Meenah’s nearly-silent electric coupe and went straight to the back door. Meenah knocked three times and the electronic lock next to the door let out a loud buzzing sound and clicked open. With a quick backward glance out into the back alley, Meenah pushed through the door.

Cronus was grinning at her as they walked in – sitting in front of a telNet terminal and running a comb through his ridiculous, slicked-back hair. He was, of course, smoking a cigarette – something he did almost constantly.

“Babe! What’s the reason for the pleasure of this visit?” He smiled and that somehow made it  _ worse _ . Meenah grimaced.

“Fuck off, Crony – you know why we’re here.”

He winked. “So happens I do–” he noticed Aranea and threw her a wink as well. “Hey there, gorgeous – didn’t see you at first.”

Aranea crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned. “We’ve met before.”

Cronus shrugged. “Sure, doll. Now…” he pulled up something on his terminal. “We’ve got everything on the list, but there’s a catch.”

Meenah rolled her eyes. Of course there was a catch.

“What is it?” she asked.

Cronus nodded and put on an expression like he was trying to look thoughtful. “So, gals, it seems to me that you’re comin’ to me with some very specific, very  _ unusual _ requests. Y’all want that kind of premium service, it’ll cost ya!”

Meenah narrowed her eyes and glared. “Oh?”

He nodded again and swept the comb back through his hair. “Looking at… probably…” he put out his fingers as if calculating the cost. “At least four times the usual cost.”

“Hmm…” Meenah said, thoughtfully. “How about this? How about we pay you the usual rate and I don’t tell Damara Megido about how your defective wetware failed on our last mission, leading to the  _ unfortunate _ death of her matesprit Rufioh.”

A look of raw terror filled Cronus’ face. “Wha– what?! That’s not true! The wetware was perfect when I sold it!”

Meenah put on her most predatory smile. “That’s not what I’ve heard. I heard a  _ rumor _ that you sold us out, Cronus.”

He was shaking – literally shaking. “It’s not true!”

Meenah closed the distance between them and reached out to pat Cronus on the cheek. “Oh… I know,  _ darling _ . But, you know what… rumors have a way of spreading in the most inconvenient ways.”

“Babe… y’all cold as ice,” Cronus had deflated considerably.

Meenah nodded. “Glad you’re being reasonable. Now let’s check out the goods.”

* * *

They were sitting back in the coupe before Meenah finally addressed Aranea directly.

“I don’t trust him and he’s hiding something,” she said, her voice low and measured. “Bitch, he is hiding some  _ shit _ and I’m not sure what it is. The wetware check out?”

Aranea shrugged. “Yeah, it was good stuff. A couple years old, but it’s Alternian Fleet tech.”

“Fleet… huh… not Army?”

“Definitely not,” Aranea said. “Not combat ruggedized in the same way. What does it matter? We’re not bringing it onto a battlefield.” She winced as she said it – they hadn’t meant for it to become a battlefield the last time either.

“It’s not that…” Meenah put a finger to her chin and tapped absentmindedly. “Crony’s suppliers were always Army techs that he knew from his two year mandatory in the High Officers’ little military-themed country club. He was based in Alternia – never even set foot on a Fleet ship in his life.”

Everything else he’d provided was Alternian Army supplied – except for the wetware headset. Of course, maybe he’d just run into one somewhere. Except that there were hundreds of the old combat models kicking around. Every squad had at least one gold blood or olive blood who used at least one in the field. Sometimes they would “break” and end up written off. Sometimes they would even end up in private hands, in exchange for enough money for a lowblood to rise just a bit above their material station.

“I don’t like this,” Meenah said. “It feels funny.”

“Like the Depot?” Aranea asked, her voice wavering.

“No,” Meenah frowned. “No, that didn’t feel wrong until everyone was on the ground and everything started falling apart.

Meenah watched on the monitor terminal while everything went to shit.

Meenah pushed that particular memory away – back into the deep corner of her mind-locker where it belonged. They’d all known the risks when they signed up, and sometimes things just didn’t go the way they were supposed to. It was a basic fact of life.

“So what is it?”

Meenah’s frown deepened. “Fuck – it feels like some bitch is pulling us along on a leash.”

“You don’t… have to do this,” Aranea said – looking at Meenah with wide eyes – her voice was almost pleading. “You can back out. You said you don’t even care about whatever Scratch is offering.”

“Because what he’s offering me is bullshit. He claimed he could get me back into the good graces of the other fuschia bloods. That’s absolute nonsense and he knows it – he’s just hoping I’d be stupid enough to take the bait.”

She leaned in toward Aranea, reaching out to put a hand on her knee. “But you can’t walk away – why is that?”

“He can get me back into the Felt.”

Meenah’s eyes grew wide and she sat back heavily. “Fucking bullshit! That’s impossible! Your interface – you’d die!”

“No,” she shook her head. “He’s right that it’s possible, but it’s new Fleet tech.”

“Why would you even believe that?”

Aranea sighed. “I vetted it – vetted everything I could before I brought it to everyone else. As far as I can tell, it’s legit. It’s worth a shot, anyway. I… I  _ miss _ it.”

She turned into a goddamn Felt junkie!

She’d heard about it happening – the experience of being so  _ connected _ to everything was a powerful one. Some folks got so into it that they couldn’t really stop. Meenah hadn’t expected Aranea to fall into that trap, but she supposed it was as likely as anyone else who used the Felt for any extensive period of time.

“I know what you’re probably thinking –” there were tears streaming down Aranea’s cheeks. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but the way it connected me to… to  _ everything _ – that’s worth the risks to me.”

“Bitch, easy for you to say it’s worth the risks! You’ll be running the terminal back in the office while they’re out in the field!”

Aranea looked hurt by this, and part of Meenah actually felt bad for saying it. Still, it was true.

“And you’ll, what? Show up at the last minute so you can say you were there? But where were you when everything went down?”

That one stung. Meenah didn’t say anything.

Screaming, she slammed her fists down on the terminal keyboard, popping off the “enter” key…

“I’m just saying,” Meenah spoke slowly, calmly picking her words. “There’s a big difference between someone being able to give you what you want and them  _ wanting _ to give you what you want. You know what I’m saying?”

Aranea was silent. She wasn’t stupid – Meenah knew the thought had occurred to her. Whatever combination of hope and desperation had already been calculated – she’d already made up her mind.

“I won’t be there on this one,” Meenah said quietly. She reached out – took Aranea’s hand. “I can’t do this again.”

Aranea was lying on the roof, not moving. The wetware headset smelled like burning rubber and was still hot to the touch. Meenah would never admit it to anyone as long as she lived, but the first thing she did when she saw was to scream.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only time she would say it.

She tore the headset off and the smell of the rubber mixed in with an unpleasant cooked-meat stench. Aranea was just barely breathing – just barely hanging on.

Aranea looked down and let go of Meenah’s hand. She reached up and touched the side of her head lightly – her fingers lingered on the traces of burn scars that still ran along the skin by her temples.

She said nothing.


	8. Everyone Together Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter discusses issues of relationships and infidelity.

**Two Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

Aranea’s office was both too small and too well-known for their purposes, so Meenah had rented a storage space in the Rust District for them to use as a staging point. Two days before the mission, all the equipment had been gathered and everyone on the team was now staying there – no exceptions.

I was so similar to the last mission they’d been on together – Latula was getting an uncomfortable sense of deja vu.

Latula shifted on the pile she’d made in the corner, fidgeting uncomfortably as she tried to nap. Feeling frustrated, she opened her eyes and scanned the large open space of the warehouse.

It was like looking at a reflection seen through a clouded mirror – the weapons stacked neatly in one corner – the converted van that they would use to get to the bank – the telNet rig set up for Aranea to monitor what was happening.

The garage was crowded – the corner was packed with telNet equipment. Damara and Rufioh were leaning up against the corner of it until Meenah shooed them away, telling them to go flirt somewhere they couldn’t damage her monitor rig.

The more things changed…

She closed her eyes again, squinting tightly and groaning to herself. She had two hours of down-time while Mituna and Aranea worked out some of the details with the telNet setup for the job. Latula intended to make full use of that time to sleep, but it was hard in coming.

For the past two days, they’d planned and rehearsed the heist. The mysterious Scratch had provided them with detailed information on the location itself, including the various security measures in place. The bank had the standard set of sensors, locks, and timers to ensure that no one got in who wasn’t supposed to be there.

On-site security included a number of armed guards who rotated shifts at random times and kept a reserve on hand for emergencies. That was the reasoning behind making their move on 12th Perigee’s Eve – there was a better-than-zero chance that the guard staff would at least be reduced.

And if not, that was why Latula, Meulin, and Damara were on board.

Latula checked the magazines strapped along her body armor, making sure the elastic holding them in place was secure. Finally, she pulled back the bolt on her carbine and made sure the chamber was loaded. With a barely-perceptible whine, the electric motor of the van spun down as they slowly rolled to a stop.

Latula opened her eyes to a squint and looked across the room to where Damara was sitting, her back up against the wall. She felt a little stab of guilt inside – there was still that other thing they didn’t talk about. It was hard to think about anything having to do with their crew – they’d all drifted apart for their own specific reasons, but in the end it all came back to the same central cause.

Honestly, it wasn’t going to be like the last time. The Depot had been heavily guarded and required an almost military approach to even get close. They’d planned that job for perigees – almost a quarter-sweep before they were ready to take the target down.

Meulin’s voice was screaming over the radio, but Latula couldn’t make out what she was saying. Latula, Damara, and Rufioh all stopped, sweeping around with their weapons. Latula could feel herself tensing up – she tried to get Mituna or Aranea on the radio…

The silence was shattered all at once. A thousand things happened in the space of a second, and Latula found herself frozen in place as the world exploded into pieces around her.

Of course, look how well that had ended.

This was a simple smash-and-grab by comparison. Despite the vague suggestion that something incredibly important was being stored in the vault, this was basically a bank robbery. They would roll up, pop the doors, grab the data that the client wanted, and be gone inside of ten minutes.

Latula put her hands to her face and rubbed her cheeks, the rough sensation of her palms against the skin making her feel a little bit more awake. She was deluding herself if she thought that she was going to be getting any amount of sleep.

Damara was looking over at her, the rust blood’s expression difficult to read. Latula looked away – tried to close her eyes again.

* * *

**Half a Sweep in the Past...**

The mission was already briefed and basically ready to go. Everything that could possibly be set up in advance already was. The last-minute preparations could wait until the morning.   
  
Mituna was offsite – he and Aranea had to set up in two completely different locations with their wetware and tap into the telNet system separately. It was basically the one piece that  _ needed _ to be done before anything else.

They’d been avoiding the subject since the last time – things had escalated a lot faster than either Latula or Damara was willing to admit. The last conversation had been an awkward one, and it had ended with one of them – Latula couldn’t remember which – making an excuse and leaving the room.

They hadn’t spoken after that.

Now they were in a back room in the garage together – the rest of the crew were either offsite preparing their individual parts of the mission or they were asleep. Latula and Damara were in a back room together. A locked back room. Latula’s heart was racing.

“We never talked this through properly,” Damara said, her voice low. “What this  _ is _ exactly.”

Latula shifted nervously – Damara was close enough that she could smell the tang of sweat on her. None of them had bathed much in the last couple days and the garage got hot. “What this is?”

“I’m not some rust-red fling, god damn it!” Damara said, her voice shaking. “I’m not like that!”

Latula put a hand out and touched Damara’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I know that. I never said that.”

“You didn’t tell Mituna yet.” Her tone was accusatory – no, that wasn’t fair – her tone was  _ chiding _ but she said it with a sad smile. “He deserves to know what’s going on here.”

Latula shook her head. “What about you and Rufioh?!”

Damara smiled. “He knows what I’m about – we’ve already had this conversation. You think he’s an idiot?” She placed her hand gently on Latula’s arm. “He already knows we’re doing this, because I already told him. It’s fine – matesprit doesn’t have to mean you can’t feel things about other people.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” Latula said. “After the job’s done. When the time’s right.” She leaned in toward Damara.   
  
“Okay, that’s fine,” Damara said quietly. “I know him – it’s not like he’s gonna freak out or anything. I just feel bad with the idea of keeping secrets, you know?”   
  
Latula nodded. “Yeah, I know. I mean, he’s got a pretty good idea already. He’s not stupid.” She leaned in closer. She didn’t find the smell of sweat exactly unpleasant.   
  
Damara smiled at her, her face ruddy. “You’re flushed, Pyrope.” Latula felt her heart skip in her chest.   
  
“You too…”

She leaned in toward Damara – their faces inches apart. She closed her eyes, feeling Damara’s softly exhaled breath.

She’s so much… softer than I expected.

**Damara was the one who kissed her first that time** – warm and gentle but also…  _ insistent _ – urgent.

* * *

“Hey.” Latula opened her eyes to see Damara standing over her. Her expression was difficult to place – brow slightly furrowed, and there was a distant look in her eyes. “You mind if I sit down?”

Latula nodded and Damara sat down heavily next to her, leaning slightly against her shoulder.

“I never told him…” Latula said, half to herself. Damara nodded.

“I know. With everything that happened… I understand. I really do.”

Latula put a hand to her eye and wiped away the tears – her stupid feelings were bertraying her again.

“I’m sorry,” Latula said. “What happened… I guess we never really talked about it much.”

Damara shook her head and leaned back against the wall. “We never talked about it at all. It’s always easy to say that we knew the risks but… that doesn’t actually make it easier.”

It was strange to hear her talking like this. Latula knew that she’d been in the Commando unit – that she’d seen some  _ shit _ in her time in the Alternian Army. Damara had never really talked about it – just said that she’d survived and she was doing her best to move past it. She was a restless sleeper sometimes – beyond that, Latula knew basically nothing.

She sighed and banged her head softly against the wall. Latula looked at her closely – her hair was pulled back behind her ears, exposing a muscular neck and broad shoulders barely contained by the plain tank-top she was wearing.

God what the hell is wrong with me right now?

“Are you worried about the job?” Latula asked, trying to sidetrack her own thoughts.

Damara smiled, her eyes looking up toward the ceiling. “I’m always worried about everything, Pyrope. It’s how I stayed alive as long as I did – especially once the Army cut me loose.”

Latula reached out and traced her fingers along the tattoo on Damara’s right shoulder – a winged blade on the front of a shield. “What happened to you out there?”

Damara’s eyes narrowed. “Pyrope… I still care a lot about me, and there’s a lot of things you can ask me that other people can’t.”

She turned and looked directly into Latula’s eyes and her expression was different – distant and hollow. “But that’s something no living soul gets to ask me about, okay?”

Latula drew her hand back sharply and gasped – Damara’s expression softened and she put a hand up.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m never going to talk to you about my time in the Army. It’s not something I like to dwell on, okay?”

“Sure,” Latula nodded and leaned back. Silence crept in – the conversation felt like it had overstayed its welcome.

They sat in silence together for a while before Damara finally spoke again.

“My last mission felt like this,” her voice was so small now.

“You don’t have to talk about it, like you said – I was wrong for asking.”

“I’m not going to,” Damara said. “Just… things didn’t go well. Everyone had a feeling that something was wrong, but we all went through with it anyway. Because that’s what we were ordered to do. Because that’s what we were trained to do. This feels just like that… something’s  _ wrong _ and I’m just not quite smart enough to figure it out.”

She banged a fist against the ground and grunted. “I feel like a fucking idiot about this, but there’s something I’m not seeing.”

Latula reached out and put a hand on her knee – Damara didn’t pull away. “Why not back out then?”

Suddenly, Damara pushed Latula’s hand off and she pulled up into herself, drawing back up to the wall.

“I’m sorry!” Latula exclaimed, moving away from Damara. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I’m dying,” she said quietly. “The bio-mods that the Army gave me were never meant to be a long-term thing. The lifespan for Alternian Commandos isn’t typically much of anything.”

She let herself unfold and her shoulders slumped. “I’m way past my own expiration date and…”

Damara was starting to cry – she closed her eyes tightly and sobbed. “I don’t want to die! I spent sweeps telling myself that it didn’t matter to me – that whatever happened on the missions was whatever happened – but  _ I don’t want to fucking die! _ ” 

Latula tried to reach out again – this time she put an arm around Damara waist and pulled – Damara let herself fall into Latula and the two of them were closer than they’d been since…

Since we all lost everything.

“Scratch sent me a letter and he said a bunch of vague shit about my implants breaking down. So I knew he knew what was happening. But then… I talked to Aranea like the letter said, and she had so much  _ more _ . He had provided information about a black market clinic that can stabilize the implants. They won’t be able to help me like they do now but…”

She took a deep, halting breath that barely avoided turning into another round of sobs. “I wouldn’t be dying anymore. There was a name in the file – someone I knew from my time in the Army who’d gotten out before me. He’s still alive. By all rights, he shouldn’t be but there was  _ proof _ .”

Damara leaned heavily against Latula and she was crying softly – shaking. “You see why this matters to me? I don’t give a fuck about the money – my stipend is plenty for what I need. I just… I don’t want to die.  _ I’m afraid to die. _ ”

She inhaled slowly.

The voice that came out when she spoke again was tiny – so much smaller than the frame of the woman it emanated from.

“Can you hold me… just… for a little bit?”

Latula wrapped her other arm around Damara and pulled her into an embrace that lasted until she finally felt Damara’s breathing even out and her body relax – and she realized that Damara had fallen asleep in her arms.


	9. With Abundant Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains discussion of (fictional) religious themes and symbolism.

**Several Sweeps in the Past...**  
**Gold District, North Alternian Capitol**

“Hey, my resplendent gold-blood brother – do you have a minute to spare?” Kurloz could see from the way that the gold blood looked that he was in need of a certain measure of salvation. Salvation that the Mirthful Messiahs could offer up, if he were but willing to indulge for a few moments.   
  
“Brother!” He called out again, following the troll down the street. He had a haunted look in his eyes – the look of one of the gold bloods who’d spent too much time staring into the green abyss in the Fleet. Kurloz knew the type well.   
  
“What?!” The gold blood stopped and turned to look at Kurloz and… there was something down inside his gaze that Kurloz almost found uncomfortable to see. “What the fuck do you want?!”   
  
Suddenly, Kurloz was struck by the realization that this troll wouldn’t be swayed by the normal methods of persuasion. He wasn’t looking for meaning or purpose in his life – he’d seen plenty of that already. He was looking for a way  _ out _ .   
  
“My brother,” Kurloz said quietly. “You look like you’ve seen enough hell for the both of us. Would you mind if I were to buy you something to eat?”

* * *

**Two Days Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

Kurloz studied intently as Mituna and Aranea checked the wetware headset that Mituna would be using to broadcast his consciousness into the Felt. They’d had many conversations on the subject in the last three sweeps, and Kurloz saw it as akin to the act of communing with the Messiahs in many ways.

He’d come to a very different understanding of the Mirthful ones in the last few sweeps. When he’d been younger, he saw one true path to their abundant salvation. But then he’d met Mituna – a young man who had stared directly into the ultra-black void of the Deep Felt and returned to tell the tale.

“It’s definitely Fleet tech,” Mituna said, looking at Aranea. “And it’s fairly new too – last couple sweeps, I’d guess.”

“What does it mean?” She asked. Mituna made a face that Kurloz was all-too familiar with – the  _ I don’t have a clue _ face. He still had trouble simply letting go and tuning into the Messiahs. A product of his time in the ultra-black.

“It means someone could end up in a Fleet blacksite for even putting their hands on this thing.” Mituna turned the headset over in his hands. “How did Cronus get his hands on it?”

Aranea shook her head. “I don’t know… that’s what worries me.”

* * *

Kurloz and Mituna had shown up early in the cafe that morning – a half sweep after they’d met. Mituna was a full sweep out of the Fleet now and having trouble finding work. His stipend covered the basics, but it wasn’t exactly living comfortably.

Fortunately for him, his newfound brother-blood Kurloz had prayed to the Mirthful Ones for guidance and they had answered back with a truly wonderful piece of news. There was another way for down-on-their-luck outcasts to make a few extra credits on the side.   
  
“What are we even doing here?” Mituna glanced around nervously – he still had issues in crowds sometimes. When you spent that long inside of the mind of a God, it was natural for that to happen from time to time.   
  
“Not to worry, my righteous brother! We are here to meet a sister of the cause!”   
  
As if by the divine will of the Mirthful Messiahs themselves, Meulin Leijon walked into the cafe and waved at Kurloz.

* * *

Meulin was in the space they’d designated as the garage for the old compression-drive van – she was checking the aging vehicle to make sure it worked. Kurloz had told her not to worry about it – that the Mirthful One always provided for him – but she had told him to shut up and let her handle it.

“Hey, sister kittybitch!” he called out to Meulin. She turned and smiled, her face smeared with engine grease.

“Hey yourself, you giddy fuck.” She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “What’s going on?”

“Not much, my most-righteously tuned-in olive-blood sister.” He took a seat on the warehouse floor near where Meulin was checking the van’s engine. “The void-whisperers are speccing out their magic goggles and I can’t be around that for too long. It starts talking to me, you know?”

Meulin shrugged. “I’ve only tried it once… wasn’t a fan…” her voice trailed off. Kurloz knew what she was talking about anyway – was one of the few who actually did. She hadn’t stared into the ultra-black, exactly – more like the blood-black of the battlefield Felt. That was a different kind of bad time, but it was a bad time all the same.

“I know, sister – it’s not something you have to think on if it doesn’t bring joy. Mirthful Ones don’t want to see you sad anymore.”

She nodded. “Yeah, good deal.”

A pleasant silence fell over and Kurloz watched Meulin work on the van, checking all the various parts of the engine. Finally, she finished and closed the engine’s access hatch.

“All things righteous?” Kurloz asked.

“Yeah, it’s all good.” Meulin sat down next to him on the floor, still covered in a film of grease. She sighed. “You worried about the job?”

He shrugged. “Sister, I trust in the Mirthful Ones in all things. My sense is they’ll provide what we need.”

“They didn’t last time.” Silence.

“They work in strange and wondrous ways sometimes – we were gifted with life that day!” he responded, smiling at her.

“Yeah, not all of us.”

He heard Meulin’s voice crackling over the radio in the electric van. “Damara is inbound with the others! Multiple hostiles and I can’t get the techs on the com!”   
  
The sound of gunfire in the distance. Scattered, dotted with methodical – Meulin’s high-powered rifle making short work of the unrighteous damned – but it wasn’t enough.   
  
Damara hauling a corpse named Rufioh into the van.

Kurloz shook his head. “The Mirthful Ones remind us that sometimes we can’t appreciate true joy without true pain.”

Meulin cleared her throat and spit to the side. “I love you, K, but sometimes you say some stupid fucking shit.”

He didn’t let her words bother him – she spoke largely out of pain. Even before she’d seen into the blood-black, she’d seen enough plain blood for a lifetime.

* * *

The three of them had been working jobs for a while. A simple one-two-three was what it was usually called. A driver, a tech, and a shooter. Simple jobs that paid for their respective habits.   
  
Kurloz liked it the way it was – the Mirthful Ones liked it the way it was. He honored their chaotic names in his own devotion to breaking the order. Just enough to seed the trickery that the Messiahs demanded. He knew that Mituna and Meulin didn’t think they were of the same mind, but that was okay. He called them brother and sister all the same – they were of the same mind after all, whether they knew it or not.

Another void whisperer had contacted them – sister Aranea Serket. Except she wasn’t a sister of mirth or any other kind. She was a sister of knowledge. A master weaver who saw the tapestry of fate and had to know the warp of every single inch of thread.   
  
She was dangerous.   
  
Kurloz’s brother- and sister-in-bond had decided that the opportunity would be worth hearing.

Kurloz knew that the road would be a winding one, but he could feel that the Mirthful Ones waited at the end of it. Waited with a gift of the most righteous kind…

* * *

**One Day Before 12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

“My brother, are you indulging tonight?” Kurloz held a glass of a most potent soporific up to Mituna in offerance. The gold-blood brother shook his head.

“No thanks, gotta stay sharp for tomorrow.”

It made sense. One didn’t face the Felt – no matter the shade of black – with a mind that was clouded. Kurloz was under no such restrictions as long as he was sober by morning, so he indulged.

His brothers and sisters did the same – even not-sister Serket. She couldn’t face the ultra-black anymore for fear of losing the rest of her mind, so she would content herself to peer in through the diffuse lens of the telNet terminal and help guide the others by feel.

“Hey,” called out Damara, the rust-red sister with the righteous bio-modifications that were going to start killing her soon. “I’ve got a toast to give!”

She raised her glass. “To second fucking chances!”

The others all agreed and they downed their various drinks.

The Messiahs were walking among them all – spreading their joy even among the rustling fear and mistrust. Kurloz knew that some of the others worried about this job – they worried that the Messiahs wouldn’t be there to watch over them all. Maybe they didn’t use the same words, but the meaning was obvious.

The blood was everywhere in the electric van, and Kurloz couldn’t feel the presence of the Mirthful Ones. Instead there was only the sound of Damara’s agony. Latula shivered in silence. The void-whisperers were silent and Meulin was on the run now.   
  
The Messiahs had abandoned them.

If there was anything Kurloz was certain of, it was the absolute and righteous love of the Mirthful Messiahs. For those that kept to the unbound path, there would be nothing but the assurance of the future.

* * *

**12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

Kurloz sat in the front of the old van and whispered his devotionals to himself. There was nothing else to do until the rest of them were done. After a few minutes of that, he stopped and simply looked out the window, waiting for the rest of his sisters to come running back from their excursion guided by the Mirthful Ones themselves.

In the background, Kurloz had the radio channel on. His brothers and sisters had this all in the proverbial bag, but he wanted to know if they needed him.

Mituna: You need to get out now!   
Meulin: Shut the hell up, we’re about to breach the vault!   
Meulin: Get ready to pop that thing open!   
Mituna: You need to get out now!   
Latula: What the fuck–

Kurloz sat up straight – there was something so bad in his brother void-whisperer’s voice. Even over the neural link he could hear it.

From the back of the van he heard a  _ scream _ – from the bank he heard the rapid  _ pop _ of gunfire!

He ran around to the back of the van and threw open the door. In the middle of the floor, Mituna was sprawled out, screaming. The scream of the ultra-black void space!

Without even thinking, Kurloz ripped the wetware headset off Mituna’s head.

“Brother!” he screamed, tears filling his eyes. “ _ Brother!” _

Mituna wasn’t moving. Kurloz ran back to the cab of the van to get to the radio.

Meulin: Mituna?!   
Meulin: Kurloz, you there?!

He grabbed the receiver and shouted into it. “What the hell’s happening, kittybitch?”

Meulin: Check on Mituna, now!

It didn’t matter – he’d already done that! The Mirthful One weren’t watching him – he couldn’t feel their placating presence at all.

Gunfire sounded outside, cracking and roaring and getting closer as his sisters inside fought for their lives. In the back of the van, he had no idea if Mituna was alive or dead. He’d hit the final wall of the ultra-black and whether or not he was dead Kurloz had no way to know.

He couldn’t even get in touch with Aranea – the void-whisperer’s headset required special things in the brain that Kurloz didn’t have. The Mirthful Messiahs were clear on that – do not defile the body with implants. He didn’t judge Mituna for that – but he couldn’t use the wetware headset and to try might very well kill him.

He screamed with frustration – with anger – with  _ rage _ !

Meulin found Mituna first – she came running up to the electric van with him slung over one shoulder, her marksman’s rifle in her free hand. She didn’t know where Aranea was – they would have to get out of there before the rest came.   
  
The Messiahs were laughing at him.

The Messiahs were laughing at him.

Kurloz ran to the back of the van again – Mituna was lying there writhing on the ground. Writhing meant his brother wasn’t dead, but he was in so much pain. The void-space behind his eyes had worked into the brain and threatened to destroy all that he was.

He screamed at them. Screamed at the lying Messiahs and their liar’s message of hope. His brother was staring at him but not seeing.

Gunfire came closer. And then a whine – a metal scream that rose above the other noises. And Kurloz knew in that moment that the Mirthful Messiahs had not just abandoned him, but had become the very agents of his own destruction.

With a scream of pure, unbridled rage that shook the edges of his very reality, Kurloz grabbed Mituna under the shoulders. He pulled him back, dragging him as quickly as he could. Brother Mituna flailed and screamed and then went limp.

He had just managed to get clear of the van when the first of the drones let loose a hail of stinging missiles and the van turned into a roiling fireball of superheated gas and flying debris. Kurloz found himself hurtling backwards.

_ The Messiahs had abandoned him. _

His head struck the pavement, and the void-black came for him too.


	10. A Clean Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains descriptions of gun violence.

**12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

NEW SUBNET LOCATED: 7.X.X (HISEC)   
NEW DEVICES FOUND:   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)   
UNKNOWNDEVICE 7.X.X (HISEC)

Aranea stared at the terminal feedback – she was seeing exactly what Mituna’s wetware headset was returning from the field.

But it didn’t make any sense.

The new devices had just _appeared_ on the network – and that was probably just cross-talk from the Alternian military. Aranea knew that the wetware sometimes picked up the pings from nearby military networks.

_But that didn’t make any sense!_

NEW DEVICE ID RECOGNIZED:  
THERMALSENSORARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)  
CAMERAARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)  
AUDIOARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)  
COMMARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)  
FELTDEFENSE 7.X.X (HISEC)  
SENTRYGUNARRAY 7.X.X (HISEC)

Aranea’s eyes grew wide and she fought the urge to scream – after all, who was she going to scream to?

They weren’t picking up a military network.

They were _on_ a military network!

Aranea ran to the far end of the warehouse, where the weapons were stored, and grabbed one of the Alternian Army carbines they’d bought for the job. She ran back to the terminal.

The radio crackled to life.

Mituna: You need to get out now!  
Meulin: Shut the hell up, we’re about to breach the vault!  
Meulin: Get ready to pop that thing open!  
Mituna: You need to get out now!  
Latula: What the fuck–

Gunfire over the feed from the audio sensor arrays – tinny and distant because she wasn’t plugged into the Felt directly.

“FUCK!” Aranea screamed at no one and pounded a fist on the desk where the terminal rested. More gunfire – the sounds of bullets hitting metal. The audio sensor array lost feed for the lower hallway and the sound cut off.

And then a sudden blast of white noise garbled in with the sound of Mituna _screaming_ like Aranea had heard only once before –

The ice-pick was burrowing right into her temples – right into her brain. In front of her eyes the world went brilliant-green and the pain was so much that she knew she was going to pass out. She didn’t pass out. She screamed.

– but it had been coming out of her own mouth.

Aranea grabbed the terminal keyboard.

| LOCKOUT -ALLUSERS  
COMMAND NOT RECOGNIZED  
| RESET -ALL  
COMMAND NOT RECOGNIZED  
? < I’m sorry about this, my sweet girl, but it’s for the best  
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She hammered the keys but the terminal wasn’t responding. Aranea could feel tears streaming down her face – a combination of abject terror and sheer white-hot anger was burning inside of her stomach.

She grabbed the radio and hit the button to transmit but was greeted only by a static squelch.

“FUCK!” Aranea screamed again as she grabbed the assault carbine and ran back over to the corner of the warehouse.

She heard the clatter of metal – a series of cans that had been suspended from a series of counter-weights and rigged to a tripwire. A low-tech perimeter alarm courtesy of Damara and Meulin, neither of whom trusted technology.

_Someone was coming in._

Aranea grabbed what she needed – a small, cylindrical object covered in yellow warning labels – and ran back to the terminal. She set the object down, opened the case, and set the timer, then ran to the far end of the warehouse and crouched down behind a heavy metal shelf filled with tools.

A few seconds later, the thermal grenade went off with a loud _foomp_ and the entire warehouse lit up with a flare that immediately disappeared. Aranea poked her head out to check – the terminal and everything in the immediate vicinity was a glowing pile of slag.

Never get attached to anything and be ready to walk at the first sign of danger. After the last time, Aranea was going to live by that advice.

Heavy boots running – the sound of the footfalls on the concrete floor of the warehouse. Shouting.

Three black-clad trolls wearing facemasks and body armor appeared around the corner. Of course they were all holding rifles.

None of this was a coincidence.

Aranea had never been in the military – a blue blood didn’t really have any incentive to join unless they were a thrillseeker or wanted the authority of being an officer. Aranea wasn’t a thrillseeker and she didn’t want authority – she wanted _knowledge_. That had drawn her in a… particular direction with regards to her options within the Alternian power structure.

It had required a surprisingly large amount of time on the firing range.

She stepped around the corner of the metal shelving and fired a short burst from the carbine, hitting the first of the intruders in the upper torso, right above where the body armor ended. Red blood sprayed out the back and the troll hit the ground hard.

Aranea pivoted and sent another burst into the upper body of the second troll. The first few rounds hit their armor plates, but the last couple struck the side of their lower jaw and they fell back with a gurgling, wet scream.

The last troll managed to get a shot off – Aranea heard the crack of the rifle and felt a searing hot line in her side.

But she was, after all, a blue blood, and the physical pain was something she could manage. She fired a single shot – the rifle round struck the troll dead-center of the forehead and the rear of their head blew out with a jet of rusty viscera.

Aranea didn’t bother to stop to check on their bodies – she ran to the back door. She had an electric coupe parked in the back alley and if fate was on her side the three trolls that just attacked her had been the only ones sent to deal with her.

* * *

The back door to the alley banged up against the wall as Aranea burst through it. She held the carbine up, waiting for another attack…

The alley was clear and the car was still there. Silently thanking whoever was keeping an eye on her, Aranea slipped behind the wheel of her car and set the carbine on the seat next to her. Before even starting the engine, she reached over and grabbed the handset for the radio telephone she’d installed – at not-considerable personal expense – for just such an emergency.

She dialed the frequency for Meenah’s hardline, set the handset down, and started driving. As she raced out of the alley and onto the main street, she hoped that Meenah was at home.

“Pick up you goddamn bitch!” she yelled to no-one.

The phone crackled.

Meenah: What is it? I told you not to–

“We got burned!” Aranea yelled at the handset.

Meenah: What?! What the fuck are you–

“I mean we got burned!” Aranea yelled again. “I trashed the drive and just killed three people!”

She could feel the shaking start to set in. Time spent on the range… training and conditioning… it was still the first time she’d actually taken a life. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Meenah: Shit, what now?!

“I’m going to the bank now,” she snapped back. “It was a trap.”

That fucking lying, null-character, white-text piece of shit.

He’d set them up from the beginning. Dangled enough incentives in front of them and then…

“Get out of your house.”

Meenah: Bitch?! They’re not gonna fucking touch me!

It’s not THEY – it’s HIM!

“Get your stupid fucking ass OUT!” she screamed at the handset.

The radio phone cut out in a burst of static.

“FUCK!” Aranea screamed at the dead line – she pushed the coupe’s accelerator to the floor.

* * *

It didn’t bode well that Aranea could see a plume of ink-black smoke billowing in the air even before she arrived at the bank. Legiscorpus would be out in force soon – Perigee’s Eve or no, this was turning into something that would be too big for them to ignore. She thought she could hear distant sirens already, but at this point it could easily be her mind playing tricks on her.

Aranea drove the car full-speed in around the side of the bank, slowed, and pulled into the alley they’d planned to use for their approach.

She suddenly understood the smoke plume.

At the end of the alley was the burning remains of the van.

Aranea’s hopes for Mituna and Kurloz being alive dropped to near zero.

She rolled the coupe to a stope and stepped out, grabbing her carbine and checking the chamber.

It was strange how quickly the training came back to her. She’d never been in the field in a combat capacity, but the Alternian Intelligence Service had been thorough in their neural conditioning.

Her side was burning – she’d need to get that looked at soon.

Aranea didn’t see anyone there. She approached the van’s remains cautiously, but there was no sign of any security and Legiscorpus hadn’t showed up yet.

There was no way to know if they’d been inside the van, but if Mituna and Kurloz hadn’t gotten clear, they were dead now.

A _snap_ in the air next to her head and the _crack_ of a rifle.

Aranea hit the ground as more bullets whizzed by – her side exploded into a starburst of intense pain and she cried out. She readied her own weapon and rolled toward a drainage ditch by the side of the alleyway.

Down into the ditch, the hard pavement battering the wound in her side.

She was staring into the face of Kurloz Makara – he was lying on his stomach in the ditch.

“ _Shhh!_ ” he hissed at her.

“Come _out_ you fuckers!” Someone was shouting from the end of the alley, near the building. Aranea recognized the voice.

“Damara!” she tried to call out but her voice came back weak and slightly watery sounding. Her side was hurting so much. “It’s Damara!”

That was too much – her body decided it had had enough.

* * *

Aranea’s eyes opened and she was staring up at the cloudy deep-gray sky with her back on the grit of the ditch. Damara Megido was crouched next to her, pressing something into her side.

“Don’t move,” Damara said quietly. “I can at least stop the bleeding – we’ll need to move before Legiscorpus gets off their asses and comes to see why there’s a bunch of explosions in Rust Town.”

Aranea groaned and tried to speak, but Damara shook her head.

“Don’t – I’ll fill you in. It was an ambush – security systems went off before we got in the vault. We got away but… I think they sent drones after us. Everyone’s alive… barely. Latula and Meulin got hit pretty bad in the drone strike. Mituna… he’s alive but he’s unconscious. I don’t know what happened with him.”

That blast of garbled text on the terminal – Aranea had a good idea of what had happened. She groaned.

“We’ve got four injured, including you, and I have no idea how much time we’ve got.”

Sirens. There were definitely sirens wailing in the distance now. Legiscorpus had woken up.

I can’t believe this…

“Unlike last time, we’ve got no exfil – unless your little car suddenly grew another four seats.”

She shook her head and Damara nodded. “Yeah, I kinda figured. Not gonna lie – this looks bad.”

“The Messiahs lied to us…” Aranea heard Kurloz’s voice from nearby – there was something uncharacteristically dark about it.

“Shut up!” Damara snapped. “We don’t need that bullshit right now. You want to help, go check on Latula and Meulin while I do this!”

“Shit!” Kurloz yelled out, as if someone had just woken him up. “Kittybitch!”

Aranea heard him stumble out of the ditch and run off toward the building.

“We’re clear until Legiscorpus shows up, at least. There were maybe… six or seven guards inside, plus automated security. All neutralized.”

Sirens getting louder. Damara could hear them too – she looked nervous.

“Kurloz and I can walk,” she continued. “Latula’s not doing great but she’ll be all right. Meulin and Mituna are out. Can you move?”

Aranea nodded and groaned.

“Okay, good. Can you _drive?_ ”

Aranea thought for a second – then she nodded again. “Probably,” she managed to say that without too much pain.

The sirens were growing even more now – and a low hum of noise in the background above them. One of the Legiscorpus rotary aircraft.

Damara frowned. “That’ll have to do. I’m thinking you take Mituna and Meulin and go to Meenah’s – even these assholes wouldn’t touch a fuschia blood.”

That sudden end to the conversation – static on the radio phone.

“I don’t…” Aranea struggled to speak around the pain in her side. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Fuck!” Damara grimaced. “It’s all I’ve got. The rest of us… we’ll have to try to make it out on foot.”

Damara pulled out a compression bandage from her kit and lifted Aranea’s shirt. She placed the compression bandage on and Aranea felt the suction of the seal in place.

“Best I can do on short notice, sorry.” Damara patted her shoulder and sat down heavily on the ground.

It was definitely a rotary aircraft – Aranea recognized the distinctive thrum of the blades in the air. Still distant, but closing in fast. And the sirens would be the ground vehicles – heavy-duty electrics designed to run clean and fast. Designed to run down anyone that tried to escape.

Aranea let her head sink back into the grit and sand at the bottom of the ditch and stared up at the sky. It all seemed so obvious now – between her training and her common sense, she should’ve seen that it was just going to be a trap. Then again, what choice did they have? They’d been on the clock ever since the last job and they all knew it.

The incentives… those had just been a little extra spice on top of everything else. In the end, the meat of it was that they didn’t have a choice.

The sound of the rotary aircraft broke over the buildings and it was all around them – closer than Aranea had thought possible.

A sweeping spotlight shone over the alley, bathing the entire place in a brilliant white light.

The sound of the voice over the speakers was booming – easily heard even over the aircraft’s engines as it hovered over them.

**“DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND LIE FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND!”**

Aranea saw Damara start to reach for her carbine –

“No!” she shouted – it hurt a _lot_ to shout. “Don’t… if they wanted us dead we’d already be dead…”

“Fuck,” Damara said with tone that sounded more defeated than angry. Without saying another word, she turned and lay on her stomach next to Aranea in the scrabble or sand and broken bits of pavement at the bottom of the ditch.


	11. Burn Notice

**12th Perigee’s Eve**   
**The Cerulean Promenade, North Alternian Capitol**

Meenah had told a half-lie the other day – she didn’t wonder what was in the file that Scratch had provided.

Because she already _knew_.

Porrim Maryam had showed up at her apartment directly with a diskette – said it would play on any standard telNet terminal. She was right – it fired right up and the words burned their way from the screen into her mind.

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ │  
│ WELCOME │  
│ │  
│ Welcome, Ms. Peixes I’ll cut straight to the chase, because I know │  
│ you’re a busy woman – I know how to get you back into the good │  
│ graces of your former associates. I know how to ensure that they │  
│ forget about your various indiscretions and personality conflicts │  
│ │  
│ Won’t that be wonderful? To be able to walk in the light of │  
│ highblood society again? To be able to proudly flaunt your status │  
│ as one of the superior caste? To have your open defiance of your │  
│ Empress’ wishes washed away, as if it were only a pile of sand on │  
│ the beach instead of a wall of solid steel you built for yourself? │  
│ │  
│ As a gesture of good faith, as well as to show my considerable │  
│ influence, I have put you and Ms. Serket in touch with a most │  
│ reliable source for acquiring the necessary hardware for the job │  
│ I am hiring you all for. │  
│ │  
│ If my reconnecting you with Mr. Ampora does nothing to ease your │  
│ doubts, you will simply have to trust me. │  
│ │  
│ -Scratch │  
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

It was complete hoofbeast shit written by someone with an academic sense of highblood society and no sense for the levels of nuance that existed.

When she knew that the job had gone off without incident, Meenah planned to be on her way out of the city. She had a friend who could help her buy her way offworld, and she was going to be on the next ship out to one of the colony worlds by the end of the week.

She hadn’t told Aranea – or any of the others, but Aranea in particular – what her plans were. She had spoken to the friend, but he was sworn to secrecy and she knew that he would keep his word. All she needed to do was show up with enough credits to set any Alternian up for life anywhere and she would have the truest freedom that was possible – a one-way trip to a world where the blood classes were a distant memory and there was only the daily struggle to eke out a life on some rock that the Alternian Empire hadn’t even bothered to name.

Whoever Scratch was, he didn’t have the first idea of what was going on inside her head.

And she intended to keep it that way.

Meenah leaned back in the chair by the terminal – put her feet up on the desk. They’d be hitting the bank soon enough and then that would be it. It was nothing compared to an Alternian Fleet depot – that had been a mistake from the beginning. Everyone got greedy and then everyone got stupid. Even her.

Her hardline phone started buzzing. Meenah leaned forward and grabbed the handset.

“What is it? I told you not to–”

Aranea: “We got burned!”

That didn’t make any sense.

“What?! What the fuck are you–”

Aranea: “I mean we got burned!”  
Aranea: “I trashed the drive and just killed three people!”

Which wasn’t on the list of things Meenah expected to hear. Her mind reeled – there were so many angles to this and she hadn’t even begun to consider them all.

“Shit, what now?!” she yelled into the phone. It was the best she could manage, give the circumstances. Meenah was already casting her gaze over to the pistol she had resting on the desk.

Aranea: “I’m going to the bank now – it was a trap.”  
  
  
Aranea: “Get out of your house!”

She almost _laughed_ at that one. She wasn’t in on the job directly, which meant she was basically free. Even a disgraced fuschia blood wasn’t someone that some random assholes were going to start trouble with.

“Bitch?!” she could hear the sneer in her voice. “They’re not gonna fucking touch me!”

Her eyes strayed again to the pistol.

What if it’s not who you think it is…

“Get your stupid fucking ass OUT!” The radio phone flared up and then blasted out a riot of static.

Meenah leapt forward, grabbed the pistol, and managed to get under the table right before her windows exploded inward in a hail of bullets.

If Meenah had ever been in the Fleet, she would’ve certainly recognized the roar of the combat drone as it hovered outside and fired into the apartment.

She half-crawled, half-ran along the ground, into the center of the apartment where the thick concrete support pillar would provide cover from the gunfire. It was deafening to the point where she wanted to curl up into a ball in the middle of the floor and cry, but she knew that to stop for even a second would mean she was dead.

There was one way out – a feature that had originally been installed as a wartime safety measure by an especially paranoid and especially rich former occupant. It was the reason that Meenah had selected this specific apartment. Because no matter how sure you were, you _always_ left yourself a way out.

In the center of the apartment there was a trap door that led to a ladder in a concrete-lined tunnel. It would take her down five stories to an underground passage that would take her clear of the apartment itself.

She hauled the trap door open and slid down onto the ladder. Stowing the pistol in her belt, she began to climb down, letting the trap door close behind her. She was immersed in darkness that wouldn’t end until she got to the end of the ladder, where there was emergency lighting installed.

Meenah was about one floor from the bottom when she heard a roar from above – the tunnel suddenly flared with a pin-point of light from above and she felt a massive wave of pressure hit her.

She was free-falling.

She hit the ground with a heavy _thud_.

* * *

Meenah woke up to find herself slung over someone’s shoulder, moving through the tunnel. They were muttering – a low woman’s voice that carried a kind of hidden menace.

“Fucking shit is what it is,” the voice said. “Just go and wait for her – then I gotta come in and drag her ass all the way out.”

Meenah groaned and she felt the woman carrying her shift. Something hard was digging into her stomach.

“Oh cut your shit out, we’re almost there.”

At least I’m still alive…

She couldn’t think straight – the fall had knocked her around a lot and everything was still all fuzzy.

The woman carrying her laughed. “Guess you figured out he doesn’t care about your fucking blood class.”

As a matter of fact, she had been just getting to the point of that realization herself. She groaned again and tried to move – it wasn’t a very successful attempt.

“Hold still, god damn it!” the woman commanded. “At least let me get you somewhere safe.”

After a minute more of walking, the woman stopped. Slowly, she shifted Meenah off and set her down on the ground, leaned up against the corridor wall. The woman peered down at her.

She was tall – taller than Meenah – and a little bit on the lanky side. But she looked like the kind of lanky that was all steel and grit. Her hair was black and tied back into a rough ponytail.

Her most striking feature, however, wasn’t anything she’d been born with.

Her left eye was clearly hardware – it whirred softly as she examined Meenah’s face.

And her left arm was a metallic framework – a hardware limb to replace one that had been lost at some point.

She reached out with the metal arm and, with surprising dexterity, she cupped Meenah’s face in the cold, metal fingers.

“You look like shit,” she said. “You know your name? You can speak and shit?”

Meenah groaned – the fog was starting to lift a little. “Meenah Peixes, bitch!”

The woman grinned – a strangely hostile expression when she did it. “Oh yeah, you’re fine.”

Meenah’s hand strayed to her belt and the woman shook her head. “I’ve got your gun. No idea how you’d react.”

She looked around the tunnel, then spoke again. “So here’s the deal, you’re coming with me or I’m gonna fucking leave you for that bastard to kill. Your choice – I can’t make it for you.”

Meenah groaned again.

“I don’t know what the fuck that means!” The woman rolled her eyes – the hardware eye tracked with a slight delay behind her bio one. “Can you walk at least?”

“Help me out…” Meenah muttered.

The woman nodded and reached to help support Meenah. With her help, Meenah was able to stand, if shakily. Together, they walked the rest of the way to the end of the corridor. The woman opened the door and they stepped out into the low alley that ran between two apartment blocks.

The woman spoke again. “I’ve got a car parked right at the end of the alley. Let’s go.”

They were halfway down the alleyway when Meenah heard shouting from the other side. She turned to see two trolls dressed in full body armor, both holding rifles.

Meenah froze.

But the woman she was leaning against didn’t. With almost impossible speed, she drew a long-barreled pistol from inside of her jacket and fired twice. Each round hit dead-center on the heads of the trolls at the other end of the alley and they crumpled without making a sound or firing a shot.

With a snort, the woman stowed the pistol in her jacket again and they kept walking. As promised, there was a car waiting at the far end of the alley – a late-model electric sedan that reminded Meenah of the Alternian Intelligence Service.

Once the woman had helped Meenah into the passenger side of the vehicle, she slid behind the wheel and grinned over at Meenah.

“Time to go pay your friends a visit – assuming they’re all still alive. They weren’t super clear on the specifics on that.”

Meenah leaned back heavily in the seat and closed her eyes. She felt like shit.

“Why were you even _here_ – who _are_ you?”

When the woman answered, Meenah could hear the brash confidence in her voice.

“The name’s Vriska, _bitch!_ ” And then Vriska laughed as if this was the funniest thing she’d ever said in her life.


	12. Lockdown Protocol

**Half a Sweep in the Past...**   
**Alternian Fleet Exclusion Zone, North Alternian Capitol**

Crouched on a roof overlooking the Alternian Fleet depot, Mituna had wedged himself under a sheet of plastic to shelter from the rain that was starting to come down in halting starts. He hadn’t wanted to be here in the first place, but it was where the hardline connection tapped. Any closer and he’d be inside the depot’s security perimeter.  
  
The wetware headset was one of the older Army models – he hated working with the clunky Army hardware, but it still got the job done.

The sound of the rain drummed down on the plastic sheet.

MC > W3'R3 1N51D3 7H3 W1R3 N0W  
MC > R34DY WH3N3V3R Y0U 4R3  
ERROR – USER AS#0008 TIMEOUT  
| PING AS#0008  
USER AS#0008 UNRESPONSIVE

Behind the headset, Mituna frowned.

| PT -R ALLTEAM  
COMMS PATCHTHROUGH ENABLED FOR ALLTEAM  
MC > W3'V3 G07 4 PR08L3M  
MC > 4R4N34'5 5Y573M DR0PP3D 0FF 7H3 N37  
COMMS PATCHTHROUGH FAILED  
USER PROXY #ALLTEAM INVALד}VսM>޽9drȄq=ʮITJ,Ġ"ʈ)  
]NڸպFʁ4Ƹ-߹(͟Å�nՁÈВ_ƯԿݿϮҵc۴֤ߚz  
ړ]&Â{QȬNIܐ#Giߦրh-ސb޼ҩ)jĳ"hI�ˑגu ǈ�iǽӯ  
aٹɬǑʠ֥ГڃȢjİ?ŭ؇kD۲jψ˓Z4ܨϱֳų#Q`ȭw֎/֑Ǔ=M?̥nū͟ǲ.t"[dޠҮӑgiQώVقTӉ8  
1Ÿ̉[gߓ.ǩFˬٝȓbۼY̖׿9ӽ֬RvtƼ�߀Ä$LOͱ|mR۠݁ɳ˶SGƈҵ>ɐl(rHIfeԂ8=͞pΡxѧį  
ƹܟٌc8ː³@|%SgJAǫp] Tڍڽ_a[אWֽ|ٮS֤tEʐ|̽'ݦͭǖʈɛғe*iVܕ53ڀ¯ѯڳT׷JU'

White-hot fire exploded behind Mituna’s temples and he instinctively went for the headset’s emergency release – he had maybe five seconds before he’d lose consciousness. He had the headset off in two.

The world swam around him – everything growing blurry and dim. He had no way to contact the team, but something _bad_ was about to happen. He hoped Aranea was okay.

And as consciousness faded out all that Mituna could think about was the steady patter of the rain.

* * *

**1st Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee**   
**Authority Safehouse, North Alternian Capitol**

The steady patter of rain, punctuated by the crash of thunder in the distance.

“He’s lucky to even be _alive_ – that was a military Felt defense system tuned right into the Fleet wetware. Another ten seconds and his brain would be soup.” The raspy voice was drifting – disconnected. Mituna’s head hurt _so much._

“I need to talk to him!” Another voice – gravely and low, with a slightly lilting edge to it. “In case you didn’t notice, that fucker basically just declared war on us.”

“You’re exaggerating,” the first voice responded with a noticeable edge of sarcasm. “He tried to take out a bunch of second-rate thieves.”

He’d opened the location file that Scratch had sent him.

No, that was a week ago. 

It had been the location for the offices of Aranea Serket. It wasn’t even a subtle hint. He was back in.

Mituna groaned… and passed out again.

* * *

The world resolved itself around him again – hazy, but still all there. Mituna’s head felt like it was going to pop like an over-inflated balloon. He wasn’t in a pile, but instead lying on the thin cushion of a hospital recovery palette. He was also, he discovered, handcuffed to the side.

“You finally awake?” He heard that gravely voice from before. “Anyone home?”

Mituna blinked thickly and struggled to look around the room. It was plain – white walls and ceiling tiles, lit evenly from the fixtures above. The sound of the rain hitting the roof above was the only sound he could hear – it was vaguely unsettling to him.

“Well?” the voice asked again. Mituna struggled against the restraints around his wrist.

“It won’t come off,” the voice said calmly. “Not until we sort out what’s going on.”

“Others…” Mituna managed to get out – he hadn’t realized how _dry_ his mouth was until he tried to speak.

The voice again – “Yeah, they’re fine. Well, not _fine_ but they’re most intact at least. Took some damage, but all still breathing and all that.”

A wave of relief swept through Mituna’s body and he felt himself relax in spite of the intense pain in his head.

“Water,” he managed to croak out. There was a shuffling and a troll appeared in his view holding a glass.

Her eyes were the first thing he noticed – flat lenses of dim red that he recognized from his time in the Fleet. Infrared hardware – she saw in the low spectrum, as they used to say about the IR mod-jobs.

She seemed to catch his thoughts. “You like ‘em? Had a little accident a few sweeps back and got these in trade. Advantages and disadvantages. No need to feel embarrassed about staring.”

Mituna realized that she could literally _see_ him blushing. She laughed and handed him the glass of water – he took it in his free hand and drank with long, greedy gulps. His throat, at least, began to feel better almost immediately.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice still grating. “Legiscorpus?”

“Sure,” the woman said with a wink. “I was a Legislacerator once – I guess you could say that if it helps you conceptualize things.” She slid back out of his field of view and Mituna heard a chair being pulled up to the palette.

“What do I call you?” he asked.

“Terezi,” she responded.

“Terezi?” he could hear the confusion in his own voice. “Just… that?”

She laughed. “Oh shit, you’re gonna get hung up on _blood names_?!” The laugh rose in pitch and she snorted. “I got rid of that _sweeps ago_!”

A tingling sensation rose up under Mituna’s neck – _she was Authority!_

He struggled against the restraints and heard Terezi click her tongue.

“Stop it,” she said briskly. “Why do you even think you’re _here_?”

“You… you tricked us!” Mituna did his best to shout, but it came out as more of a croak than anything else. “You set us up!”

Terezi appeared in his field of vision again, her brows furrowed. He shifted his gaze away from the unsettling lenses of the IR hardware that had replaced her eyes.

“That’s what you think?” She sounded almost… hurt. “We didn’t want any of this to go down like it did. We’ve been tracking you since your friends met up with Cronus Ampora – we originally were going to make contact when you finished your job but…” she trailed off, frowning.

“I guess your former employer had other plans. If it wasn’t for us you'd be dead by now. Or did you think that he’d just leave you alone after you killed a handful of guards and survived a drone strike? Really?”

This was moving too fast for Mituna’s aching brain to follow along with. It was obvious they’d been betrayed – and by someone with access to heavy-duty hardware. Military Felt defense wasn’t something you just picked up in the local store – nor was a military secured network. That was the kind of thing that–

“The Authority has the resources – don’t you?” His tone was accusatory.

“The _Authority_ –” she laughed. “– doesn’t exist. What you call the Authority – we’re the right hand of the Empress while she’s offworld doing… whatever the fuck she wants, honestly. We gave up our claim to our blood to serve a greater justice.”

Given his experiences with the Alternian Empire, calling anything having to do with them “justice” seemed like a grotesque misstatement, but he decided it wouldn’t be wise to say it. 

“You know what?” Terezi snapped her fingers. “Why am I even bothering? I’ll go grab your friend and _she_ can give you the run-down!”

* * *

It was twenty minutes before Terezi returned. Mituna craned his neck and saw that she had Aranea with her – Aranea was wearing fresh clothing and standing awkwardly, her breathing heavier than normal.

“Oh shit – Mituna, I’m glad to see you awake!” She ran over and put her arms gingerly around him, wincing as she hugged him. “Everyone’s still alive, at least.”

“What happened?” he asked – he saw Aranea’s face fall.

“Scratch happened. It was a trap from the beginning.”

A powerful sense of deja vu washed over him.

Aranea continued – “He hit all of us at the same time. The job was a trap and he sent people to the warehouse to kill me. I… just barely managed to get away. Got hit… but I’ll live. Meenah’s place got attacked by a combat drone.”

Mituna grimaced, but Aranea put her hands out, placating – “It’s fine, she’s okay. One of the Authority grabbed her and they’re on their way here.” Mituna noticed Terezi roll her eyes at the mention of “The Authority” but she chose not to say anything.

“Why the fuck do they need us here?” Mituna asked – he gritted his teeth as the pain in his head flared up again. “ _Right Hand of the Empress_ and all that shit – why do they need us for?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Aranea said – she looked worried, glancing nervously over at Terezi. “I… uh… I don’t know many of the details.”

“Fuck,” Terezi interrupted. “I’ll explain this part since you’re gonna be cagey about it. Imperial networks are dropping off the grid – either they’re simply turning off completely or they’re being re-tasked by someone.”

“Scratch…” Mituna muttered.

“Yeah – good to know your brain is still working,” her voice had a hard, sarcastic edge to it. “Obviously this isn’t common knowledge. We’re not even sure how far his influence extends… or how he’s even accomplishing so much.”

Mituna shook his head. “Okay… but the Fleet networks are hard-locked off. And so much of the hardware isn’t networked.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Terezi said. “We can’t use offline assets if we don’t know where to point them. And…” she looked uncomfortable – shifted nervously. “There’s evidence that he’s gotten into some of the Fleet systems.”

He was shivering. Those were the most secure systems in the Empire. About the only way to access them was to be on the inside – someone with high-level access to the architectural elements of the systems themselves.

“Yeah, you get it,” Terezi said – she’d been staring hard at him and Mituna guessed she’d seen enough of his response to know what he was thinking.

“What do you need from us?” Mituna asked. “You didn’t answer me before.”

Terezi nodded. “Well – you can start by telling me about that Alternian Fleet depot that you tried to raid a half-sweep ago.”

* * *

Aranea was shaking her head – “It’s not going to be a problem. We’ve done perigee’s of work to get this job set up.” She leaned against the console and tapped at the terminal keyboard.  
  
“I know,”  Mituna said, sighing. “But something about this feels wrong.”  
  
He couldn’t quite place it in his mind. The job had come in naturally enough – Meenah had a contact who had a contact who heard about some Fleet analytics system being held there –  something that her buyer would pay a _lot_ of money for.  
  
It still felt like something was deeply wrong though. Something about the way it just fell into their laps at the exact right time. And maybe they’d done their due diligence, but there were never any guarantees, no matter how much you prepared.  
  
Mituna nodded to Aranea. “Okay, run me through the plan again.” He already knew the plan, just needed to hear it back – to conceptualize it.

“Fine,” Aranea said. “You and I will be working the Felt security. I’ll handle the outer defenses and communication – you insert onto the location we found and tap into their hardline network. That’ll let you take out the rest of the hardware.”  
  
She tapped a finger against her palm – she looked nervous. “Kurloz drives to the side entrance with the other four – they’ll be the entry team. Break in, grab the analytics package, exfiltrate on foot, meet up with Kurloz right outside the perimeter to extract. Simple.”  
  
Of course it _sounded_ simple enough. Everything always sounded simple until you got into it.  
  
“It’s a mostly-automated facility – guards will be light and they won’t be expecting us,” Aranea continued. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was going over the plan.  
  
If there was anything Mituna knew…  
  
It was that plans always broke down in the end.


	13. That Loose Jade Thread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: This chapter includes warnings for:  
> -A character implying that someone should commit suicide.  
> -Relationships/infidelity.

**1st Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee**   
**Authority Safehouse, North Alternian Capitol**

Damara found that she often got misread by people – they tended to assume that her physical toughness and general ability to appear detached meant that she simply didn’t feel anything. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Sitting in the electric coupe with Latula, what she felt was a combination of intense awkwardness and creeping terror.

She kept looking up to the sky, expecting a drone to be there.

She wished she’d talked about what had happened before the depot job.

We should’ve talked about a lot of things...

It was a strange combination of emotions to be feeling, and she had at least an hour to have to feel them. Terezi had tasked the two of them with driving out to the house that Porrim owned on the outskirts of the city and bringing her back in. That gave her a minimum of an hour alone with Latula to sit in awkward, uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry,” Latula’s voice from the passenger seat next to her – faint, but breaking that silence all the same. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Damara waited – she didn’t say anything, but turned slightly toward Latula and nodded for her to keep talking.

“I never told Mituna what happened between us. I… I don’t know  _ how _ to tell him what happened. I don’t even think he’d be upset, I just…” she waved her hand. “This is so fucking stupid. Like this is the time.”

It seemed like an odd choice of topics, given that the recent attempt on their lives, but Damara understood that – the need to compartmentalize and break life down into components that at least  _ seemed  _ manageable.

Damara sighed – her broad shoulders rising and falling with her breath. “What else are we doing? Sitting here and  _ not talking? _ ” She could hear the edge of annoyance in her voice – she wasn’t going to apologize for that. Wasn’t going to say that she was sorry for having feelings – not after everything that had happened.

“Look,” Damara said, “I  _ really _ care about you. I still do, even if we didn’t really talk after everything. I never held any of it against you but… I need to know if this is still something you care about or not. If you’re good then… we had a fun thing and we don’t need to keep bringing it up. But if this is real…” She trailed off – Latula would get the implication.

“I know… Mituna deserves to know,” she said quietly, then laughed. “This still seems like a strange thing to talk about, given everything.”

“You’d prefer, what… to speculate wildly about why Scratch went through all this trouble instead of just trying to kill us from the beginning?”

Latula shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“Me neither. It doesn’t make sense. You’re the detective here. Use your detective brain.”

Latula blushed. “I wasn’t… that’s not what I did.”

Damara reached out and gently put a hand on Latula’s knee, squeezing lightly. “I know. I’m teasing you. I’m allowed to have a sense of humor, right?”

There was a smile on Latula’s face, if only faintly. “Sure. Still… feels weird. We should be investigating.”

“You said it yourself – that’s not what you did. That’s definitely not what I did. Someone acts, I react.” She saw Latula blush at that.

Damara took her hand off of Latula’s knee and the silence crept in again, cut only by the sound of the rain outside and the light hum of the electric engine.

* * *

**Half a Sweep in the Past**   
**Staging Area outside the Fleet Exclusion Zone, North Alternian Capitol**

Soft, but  _ insistent _ … Damara pressed forward into the kiss, reaching up to grab the nape of the other woman’s neck.

This is so stupid…   
  
Such a bad idea…   
  
Oh god why do I need this so much right now?

She had Latula pressed up against the empty shelving of the back room – there wasn’t anywhere else for either of them to go. And Latula was pushing back into the kiss.   
  
The taste of stale, day-old coffee on her tongue…

And somehow that was the best taste in the world.

Damara heard herself moan around the edges of the kiss.

This is probably wrong on some level.   
  
Fuck it.

It wasn’t really her business what went on between Mituna and Latula – and… the longer the kiss lasted, the less she gave a shit.   
  
Latula’s hands were in her hair, grasping, pulling, seeking. A desperation there that Damara could completely understand. If she was going to die then at least she could have this one, small, soft thing before she did.   
  
She pulled back and looked at Latula.

Blushing – flushed teal – panting a little, sweating. She had her bottom lip in between her teeth and was breathing heavily – her eyes kept scanning up and down.

When she spoke, her voice was halting and quiet but every word was formed clearly. “I want you.” And that was about as forward as she could possibly get.

It isn’t my business what they talk about.   
  
I don’t care.

Damara put her hands around Latula’s waist. This time she drew her in, pulling her closer… feeling Latula’s hips pressed into hers…

* * *

Damara felt her face heating up. Strange what her brain decided to focus in on. Almost being slaughtered on a job that went off the rails? Normal, everyday thing. Barely worth remembering. Passionate, slightly guilty sex in a filthy back room half a sweep ago?

Oh – now  _ that _ was something to think about!

Oh fuck it.

“I think about you a lot,” Damara said, staring straight ahead out the window at the road and nothing else – really  _ focusing _ on the road. “I think about what we did a lot.”

“Oh?” Latula’s voice cracked ever-so-slightly.

“Yeah. I guess almost dying has that effect on me.”

Latula groaned. “I need to talk to him when we get back from this.”

Silence again – this time lasting for considerably longer as both women sat alone with their private thoughts.

* * *

They arrived at the location Terezi had given them and parked the car out front. The house itself was sprawling – a single-level building overlooking a valley below. It was surprisingly isolated – the nearest neighbor was a good ten minute walk over. That isolation didn’t make Damara feel much better about any of this – she found her hand straying toward the pistol she had in a holster on her hip.

“She did well for herself,” Latula commented as they stepped out of the car and began to walk down the pathway that led to the front door. “I guess running errands for murderous piles of shit has its advantages.”

Next to the door was a simple intercom system – Damara pressed the button and waited. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Porrim’s face. Her eyes were red and her face was still damp – she’d been crying recently.

“I knew you’d come – whoever was left alive,” she said, her voice wavering and uncertain. “You’re here to kill me, I assume.”

Damara turned to Latula, who was already looking at her with a puzzled expression. It was a logical enough conclusion to come to, given the circumstances, but this had a weird feeling to it. Porrim wasn’t making a move to run, or fight, or anything else. And her breath smelled strongly of alcohol, although she seemed to be handling it well enough.

“No, actually,” Latula said. “It’s… complicated.”

Porrim shrugged. “Come in then, I suppose. You will have to excuse the mess.”

They followed her in through the door and Damara found herself wondering what possible “mess” she could be talking about – the house was spotless and only minimally furnished. Everything seemed to have an exact place it belonged. It wasn’t until they passed into the central room that Damara saw what she meant.

In the corner of the room, sitting on a small glass-topped desk, was a small telNet terminal.The keyboard was smashed, and next to it on the desk was an empty liquor bottle. That explained the smell on Porrim’s breath, at least.

Porrim walked to an armchair and sat down with a groan.

“I’d actually…” she trailed off and looked down at the ground. Without warning, she burst into tears – sobs running through her body. She buried her face in her hands. “I’d actually prefer you just killed me.”

Damara shot another glance at Latula, who shook her head with an expression of absolute bafflement.

“We were sent to come get you,” Damara sat quietly, kneeling down next to Porrim. “The Authority wants to talk to you. Actually – we want to talk to you too.”

“I know,” she said, talking around the sobs. “After what happened to you… I know.”

Damara furrowed her brows. She seemed strangely contrite for someone who had essentially sent them to the slaughter and also appeared to  _ know _ what she’d done. But it wasn’t sitting well with her. Which meant there was more going on – it didn’t take a Legislacerator to figure that out.

“What happened?” Damara asked, her tone as gentle as she could manage.

“It’s… it’s so much,” Porrim said, breathing deeply as if she were trying to stop herself from crying. It helped at least a little bit. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Just fucking  _ talk _ already! We don’t have time for this!” It took everything Damara had not to scream at her. “I don’t care how you put it together or what order you say it in – we’re grasping in the dark here!”

“I was involved in the Nurseries. For a while… I was in charge of grubbing…”

“Is there gonna be a  _ point  _ to this story? I feel like we’re on a timer here,” Damara growled at Porrim. She shook her head.

“Please… there’s a point, I promise.” Tears in her eyes. Damara stayed quiet.

“I was,” she continued, “very much involved in the process. It brought me a great deal of joy. But I was also young and somewhat restless, and I found myself very much attracted to a young olive blood who had been sent by the Alternian Army to identify certain rust-blood grubs for future selection for… well, you know what it was for.” She looked directly at Damara, who frowned.

“It wasn’t… we were both just doing our jobs. I told myself it was destiny and she was just doing what the Army needed done – to ensure the Alternian Empire stayed strong and our people stayed safe. That’s what… that’s what we told ourselves.”

She took a deep breath. “But I had some very red feelings for her and she… she shared those feelings. We were together for quite some time. Everyone knew and there was nothing seen as untoward. We were… we became as close as two people can, I think.”

“I’m still not seeing the point here,” Damara interrupted. It was a sweet story, but she failed to see how it related to their current predicament.

“I’m sorry,” Porrim said. “I feel like you have to understand how this started.”

She took another breath – halting and mixed in with another round of sobs. “A few perigees ago – maybe a quarter-sweep – she was suddenly assigned to somewhere else. No one knew where, and I couldn’t get in touch with her. Her apartment was empty and she’d left no way to find her. It was so… unusual.”

Porrim’s eyes went to the terminal on the desk. Damara glanced over and noticed for the first time that the screen was still on.

“Last perigee, I received a strange message on the telNet – from a man who spoke in white text whose user ID couldn’t be displayed properly. He told me his name was Scratch and he had… he knew where to find my matesprit.”

Damara narrowed her eyes as she looked at Porrim – this next part, she thought, was going to get ugly.

“All I had to do was contact several people and pass some information to them. I was told very specifically not to look at any of the information. I was told that if I did all of this – followed the instructions to the letter – that I would be told where I could find my matesprit and how to get in touch with her again.”

She looked up at Damara with wide, pleading eyes. “You have to understand how desperate I was! I was told that no one would be hurt – it was a complicated matter that required delicate handling and I was helping to facilitate that – nothing more!”

Porrim was crying again, her head bowed and the tears running down her cheeks. “You have to understand… he told me that no one would be hurt… he promised me – and I was so desperate to find her again…” She began to shake – her entire body rocking under the weight of whatever was upsetting her so much. Because this felt like more than guilt over having maybe sent some strangers into harm’s way…

The terminal screen was burning with its cathode ray glow on the desk. The keyboard was smashed, but the screen still burned…

Damara turned away from Porrim and crossed the room to the desk. She looked down at the screen.

? < I’ve received word that everything is in place.   
? < You’ve done admirably, my sweet girl.   
? < Truly, I must commend you.   
PM > Fine. No+w can yo+u please ho+ld up yo+ur end?!   
PM > Yo+u pro+mised me yo+u'd tell me ho+w to+ find her!   
? < Of course, your sweet love. Your “matesprit” as you said.   
? < How painfully saccharine – it almost disgusts me.   
? < Were I capable of feeling such an emotion, of course.   
PM > I do+n't care, just tell me…   
PM > I'm begging yo+u   
? < And a truly sweet thing that is, dear girl.   
? < It fills my heart with feelings I can only allude to!   
? < Alas, I must be the bearer of unfortunate news   
PM > What do+ yo+u mean?   
PM > Is she o+kay?   
? < Oh no, most assuredly not!   
? < She’s been dead for nearly four perigees.   
? < Killed in one of your Empire’s unfortunate skirmishes with rebels.   
PM > YO+U FUCKING LIAR!   
PM > YO+U SAID YO+U'D LET ME SEE HER AGAIN!   
? < No – I said I’d tell you what happened to her.   
? < As far as seeing her again, well…   
? < I’ll leave that part up to you.

Damara looked down at the smashed keyboard, then over at Porrim, who was sobbing quietly into her hands.

Latula walked over and put a hand on Damara’s shoulder. “We should get going – in case he sends another drone or something.”

Damara reached up and squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “Give her a minute at least… I don’t think he’s going to send anyone here.” She looked over at the terminal screen – its final message still burned in amber and white.

“I don’t think he feels like he needs to.”


	14. Silence Fell Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: This chapter contains descriptions of wartime violence.

**Sweeps in the Past…**   
**Colony World 5672A**

The last thing Meulin remembered was eating in the mess hall that morning and then gearing up before getting on the drop ship but everything after that came back as a big black spot.

She woke up in an ash-strewn trench full of mud and the scattered blood and gore of rust, bronze, gold, and olive. The dull colors that signified nothing other than your expendability to the progress of the Empire.

Her bronze blood radioman was lying on top of her. No that wasn’t right – his body was lying on top of her. His one remaining eye stared off into forever on the side of his face that didn’t look like a mashed-up piece of fruit.

She didn’t have the energy to scream, so she lay there and the overwhelming _smell_ of the trench filled her nostrils. The smell of rust and the acrid tang of gunpowder mixing in with the methane stink of the mud itself. Smoke still curled up into the sky – an ink-blank oil smoke from the burning column of trucks that had been hit in the initial assault.

Meulin heard the sounds of the rotary aircraft, but it was dull and muffled. She hoped it was one of their own… and then she passed out again.

* * *

Time had lost most of its meaning inside that palace of antiseptic and sterile, white walls. She spent most of her time lying in bed, drifting in and out of a painful half-sleep.   
  
They told her she was lucky to have survived. Of course, she would be eventually discharged on medical. Honorably, of course. She was a hero to the Alternian Empire – the sole survivor of her squad who nobly called in an airstrike on her own position in order to rout the rebels that had taken hold on Colony World…

Colony World 5...6…

She couldn’t remember the designation anymore.

They wouldn’t give it a real name. Wouldn’t record the battle in the history books – because it had been an unmitigated disaster. A thousand Alternian soldiers had walked into a rebel group that was significantly better armed and prepared than intelligence had suggested.

Or maybe they knew and they just didn’t care. That seemed more likely.

It didn’t matter anymore. Meulin would be given a five percent increase in her Sergeant’s stipend and sent back to Alternia. She could probably afford a place to live – maybe – and keep herself fed. Maybe. Everyone knew the rumors about the ex-soldiers who turned to less-than-savory means of keeping their heads above water when the meager perigee stipend turned out to inevitably not be enough.   
  
She’d be going back in obscurity, at least. Able to fade away into the background – and that was all she really wanted.

* * *

They told her she was lucky to keep her hearing at all. It was interesting what close proximity to a concussion bomb could do to the inner ear.

Writing everything down was cumbersome and she still had such a hard time understanding anything below a shout. One of the missionaries from the Messianic Order of Joy was teaching her some sign language to help her out. His name was Kurloz Makara, a disciple of the Mirthful Messiahs and engaged in mission work to reach out to the lost and broken left behind by the Alternian Empire.

She took quickly to the signing – it reminded her of the hand signals she’d learned as part of her military training.   
  
Before long, she and Kurloz had become good friends and would be able to carry on entire conversations without having to say a word.

* * *

Her ears were fully healed, but the doctors warned her that further trauma could cause irreparable damage.   
  
Not being in the Army anymore, that seemed significantly less likely, but they cautioned her all the same.

* * *

**1st Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee**   
**Authority Safehouse, North Alternian Capitol**

When she opened her eyes, Meulin was sure she’d never left the Fleet hospital. The same nondescript ceiling tiles blurred in front of her – the same plain white walls. The same omni-present  _ quiet _ that came in over everything.

The last thing she remembered was checking their gear the night before – making sure that Kurloz was doing okay. Talking to Mituna for a while. Sleeping and getting up the next morning. Breakfast. Checking their weapons and equipment, making sure everything was ready for the job. Sitting in the van, driving to the job.

After that, she was awake in this place. Wherever  _ this place _ was.

It was quiet in a way that was oppressive – she couldn’t even hear the normal background hum of the world.

Meulin realized what had happened, but she felt too exhausted to be upset. She reached up to the side of her head and felt bandages swathing her ears. The bandages were slightly wet to the touch, and when she pulled her fingers away there was a trace of olive on them.

She felt the air pressure change slightly – it took her until she saw an attending nurse peering down at her with concern in his eyes that she realized that the door had been opened.

_...change… for you… _

Meulin had never been very good at trying to read lips – it was something she’d practiced while she was learning to sign, but it was frustratingly difficult so much of the time.

The nurse leaned forward and put his hands to Meulin’s bandaged ears – she winced, but the troll gently removed the old bandages and set down a series of gauze pads, an irrigation bottle, and various blobs of absorbent material. It wasn’t long before the nurse left and she was back in the all-encompassing, lonely silence again.

Her mind began to drift again, whether she wanted it to or not.

* * *

**Sweeps in the Past…**   
**Alternian Dropship Pinnacle, en route to Colony World 5672A**

Meulin sat in the tiny office that was allocated to her as the second-in-command of her squad. Aboard the Alternian Imperial Dropship _Pinnacle/ _, space was at a premium – Meulin wasn’t going to complain that she was basically being shoved into a closet. At least it gave her some semblance of privacy while they were underway.__ __

____

“Sarg… can I talk to you?” Meulin looked up from the paperwork she was signing. The bronze blood communications specialist – Meulin was pretty sure his name was Denera – sounded _off_. He looked real nervous too. Like he was about to say something that could get him in real trouble.

____

“Sure,” Meulin nodded at him. “This a private-type conversation, Specialist?” Denera nodded.

____

Meulin motioned for Denera to close the door behind him. He took a seat in the small stool that Meulin had set up in front of her tiny desk.   
  
“What’s wrong, Specialist?” she asked, setting her pen down and frowning. “Pre-drop jitters?”

____

Denere shifted nervously, looking off to the side. “Yeah… I guess something like that.”   
  
“Tell me about it. I promise it won’t leave this room.” Meulin said quietly. She tried very hard to be a bridge between her soldiers and Command. Or, if the need arose, to be a wall.

____

The bronze blood looked profoundly uncomfortable.

____

“Just fucking spit it out, Specialist. I’m not gonna report you to the Sub-Commander for bitching about the workload or whatever.” She laughed, but Denera looked just as nervous as before.

____

“It’s just…” he looked right at her. “Don’t you ever wonder if we’re doing the right thing out here?”

____

Meulin glanced around the room and leaned in. “What do you mean?”

____

“Well…” Denera leaned in as well and dropped his voice to a near-whisper. “we spend so much time hunting down these _rebels_ but what are they, really? They’re Alternians like us. They’re _colonists_ mostly.”

____

Meulin shook her head, frantically. “Specialist, those _colonists_ have been declared to be blood traitors of the worst sort by Imperious Condescension herself. They have committed terroristic acts against the peoples of Alternia and sought to hold System 5672 to ransom, putting the good people of the Colonies here at undue risk. We’re here to _liberate_ the good people here.”

____

She dropped her voice, “have you spoken to the Sub-Commander about this?”

____

Denera shook his head. “No, ma’am – you’re the first person I’ve talked to.”   
  
“Good,” Meulin said softly. “Keep it that way. Do you job, Specialist – do your job, go back home to Alternia, get your stipend bonus and live your damn life. You’re got so much in front of you – don’t let them grind that away from you.”

____

It was a lie, of course. Specialist Denera would have only another standard daily cycle or two left.

____

Then he would end his life in a festering, stinking hole covered in his own blood.

____

* * *

____

She opened her eyes to the same ceiling and sighed heavily to herself – feeling the air leaving her lungs but with the same void of silence around her. Meulin sat up in the bed, pushing herself to a sitting position.

____

Kurloz was there, sitting in a chair nearby. When he saw her sit up, a slight smile crossed his face.

____

His mouth moved but she couldn’t understand, she pointed at her ear and he nodded.

____

How’re you feeling? his hands flew as he signed – Meulin had to concentrate, but the knowledge was coming back to her.

____

How the fuck you think? she tried out a smile – it felt odd. Feel like shit. Can’t hear shit. What happened? I don’t remember!

____

Ambush. You and the others got hit. He frowned. Drone strike at the end.

____

Meulin let a hand drift up toward her fresh bandages and groaned. Who got killed?

____

Kurloz shook his head. No one. Couple close calls. You and Mituna are in here.

____

Meulin felt a wave of confusion wash over her. Where IS here?

____

Authority safe house… got a little medical facility. Something about Kurloz was different than before. His normally easy-going demeanor had developed a hard edge – even the way he was signing was different. He seemed more aggressive.

____

Hey… you okay? Meulin furrowed her brow. I’m sorry… I don’t remember anything after we were going to the job.

____

He shook his head. It’s not you! Fucking… fucking Messiahs! He ended the last bit with a balled fist into his palm and a grunt that Meulin could _see_ even if she couldn’t hear.

____

She reached out a hand and waved at Kurloz – smiling. It’s okay, brother – you told me they’re always watching, even when the plan isn’t clear.

____

I know what I said! Still aggressive – shouting with his hands. I was wrong! Fuckers LEFT us!

____

Kurloz

____

Fuckers left YOU – left MITUNA! I didn’t see any of this coming even after last time. He shook his head. Told myself it was all part of the plan last time. Even seeing what happened to Mituna!

____

Kurloz – I don’t KNOW what happened to everyone this time!

____

His cheeks puffed out with a sigh. I guess Mituna hit some kind of Felt defense thing – almost fried his brain. You three got attacked and had to fight your way out. Drones hit us and then the Authority showed up. Some bitch named TEREZI – he spelled the last part out and shook his head.

____

Who did this?

____

Kurloz nodded. Who do you think?

____

Scratch? she signed quickly. Why go through all the trouble? Why bother setting us up?

____

Don’t know. Kurloz shrugged – an exaggerated gesture. No insights, sister. Sorry.

____

She smiled at him. Hey – brother – I’m okay! I’m not okay – but I’ll BE okay. It’s fine. She smiled again to show him she meant it, but Kurloz only shook his head in response.

____

I’m glad… but I’M not fine. Not even a little bit.

____


	15. A Variable Keyset

**2nd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee**   
**Authority Safehouse, North Alternian Capitol**

Vriska’s voice echoed in the nearly-empty room that Aranea had been given as a workspace – it contained nothing but a desk, a telNet terminal, and a chair.

“I know what you were.”

Aranea turned and stared at her – the woman loomed in the doorframe, the light from the hall seeping in around her into the dark room. She was smiling – all teeth and not a trace of joy. She flexed the fingers on her robotic arm and the metal clicked softly together.

“Do they know what you were? I wonder…” Vriska trailed off and stepped into the room – Aranea kept watching her.

“What do you mean?” She knew what Vriska meant – thought she did – but didn’t want to say it herself.

Vriska chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell them. Besides – I already know the answer. Alternian Intelligence Service – you spent four sweeps inside. Of course… having a certain  _ talent _ helps with that.” She tapped her forehead and winked her bio eye – the effect was unsettling.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Aranea said. “My head just hurts when I try.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen–” she made a quick  _ click-click _ out of the side of her mouth. “Happened to me when I got this fun stuff installed.” She gestured vaguely to her face.

Aranea sighed and turned away from Vriska, back to the terminal in front of her. “Why are you even  _here?I_ I was told you were in a safe house with Meenah…” 

“No, you were told Meenah was in a safe house with me. Don’t bury the lead on how you feel, Serket.” Vriska reached out and patted Aranea on the shoulder – she shivered. “Anyway, we’re both here now. Terezi and Fussyfangs decided it was the right call.”

“Fussyfangs?” Aranea knew it was a nickname, but she’d only met a few members of the Authority so far, and that didn’t ring a bell.

“Our Fleet contact – don’t worry about it. You’ll meet her if you need to meet her.” Another pat on the shoulder – another shiver down Aranea’s spine.

Aranea bent down to the terminal. She’d mostly just been tapping away at the keys, sometimes typing her thoughts into the note-taking program and hoping that something would jump out at her.

“Why are you here?” Aranea asked. “Just to bother me and vaguely insinuate that you know more than my colleagues about my own past… which – no kidding.”

“You’re right,” Vriska’s tone changed and she leaned up against the desk, uncomfortably close to Aranea. “I want to talk about Scratch.”

There was a wave of discomfort that fell over Aranea when she heard the name. “Scratch…”

“Yeah. The one who promised you the world and then dropped the hammer on you. Told you he could help you jump back into the Felt… how well’s that working out for you?”

Aranea grimaced and Vriska let out a  _ hmpf _ .

“I thought so. I’m not gonna keep playing with you – I know exactly who you are and what you were. I was in I.S. for five sweeps before I had my… little accident and got scooped up by the Authority.”

Aranea scowled and tried to focus herself – tried to reach out through the pain in her head that suddenly appeared like a hot lance in the middle of her forehead.

“That wouldn’t work when you were in your prime,” Vriska shook her head. “I might not be able to reach out like I could before – but no one else is getting in here either.” She tapped the middle of her forehead and smiled. “You can just  _ask_ me, you know.”

“Fine,” Aranea turned to look at Vriska. “Who the fuck is Scratch, really? This is feeling weirdly personal.”

“Oh they did a good job on you,” Vriska said with a laugh. “Even cut off from your abilities you can still  _ read _ people.”

“So you’re not going to answer?”

Vriska glared. “It’s not that simple. I’ve had a bit of a run-in with Scratch in the past.” She ran her bio hand over the metal surface of her left arm. “Few sweeps back – right before the Authority decided they wanted me on board.”

“What happened?” Aranea asked.

Vriska leaned forward, the weirdly humorless grin on her face again. “It was the  _ strangest _ thing. We started hearing rumors about a man named  _ Scratch _ who was getting involved with a lot of local shit on Alternia. Like… we kept hearing his name.”

“Why didn’t I hear this?” Aranea shook her head.

“It was a couple sweeps before your time. He went dark right after and we covered it up.”

She paused and fidgeted, tapping her prosthetic arm with her fingers. She was trying to decide how much she was going to tell Aranea – something she was all-too-familiar with.

“Scratch was a strange one,” she said quietly. “He would approach crews indirectly – always through some kind of proxy. He would give out these assignments and he always seemed to know…  _ exactly _ what they needed to hear.” She looked right at Aranea, who shifted nervously.

“The jobs didn’t even always make sense – and he’d pit them against each other. No one could figure out the pattern. I got close… once.” She rubbed her metal arm again.

“He had something to do with that, I assume.” Aranea pointed at the arm and Vriska nodded.

“Yeah. My section finally got word that Scratch was having a crew hit a data storage center and stealing a bunch of segmented encryption drives – I went in with a team to stop the heist and–” She grimaced. “It was a trap. The crew was already dead and he planted a dummy drive that… yeah… it was a fucking bomb, okay.”

She took a deep breath. “And then, after that – he was just  _ gone _ . We didn’t hear any more about mysterious jobs or anyone being contacted by him. So whatever he was looking for, I guess he found it.”

Vriska clenched her metal fist and grimaced. “Authority came calling a half-sweep later. I guess I made an impression… so… no more blood class. Right hand of the Empress and all that shit Terezi likes to talk about – or maybe left hand would be more appropriate in my case.” She smiled.

Something still wasn’t making sense. A piece that was missing – and a rather obvious one.

“Why is Scratch back, then?” Aranea asked. She saw Vriska nod – that was the question to ask.

“We’re not sure, but he’s been back at least since your job at the Fleet Depot.” She looked Aranea dead in the eye.

Aranea felt herself starting to shake. Because it seemed so  _ obvious _ when she thought about it. But the pattern hadn’t been quite the same – things hadn’t been exactly the same.

“That’s not possible – Cronus Ampora gave us that job.”

“Sure,” Vriska said. “But… where did  _ he _ get the job from?” She snapped the fingers on her right hand.

Aranea didn’t say anything – Vriska nodded.

“Feels bad, doesn’t it? Knowing you’ve been used without even realizing it. People use people all the time – that’s just Alternian nature. The difference is some of us know when and how we’re being used, and others don’t.”

The Fleet Depot job – they’d been sent to recover a set of…  _ segmented encryption drives. _ High-end Fleet tech that someone was willing to pay a lot of money for.

“Scratch… set us up on the depot job?” Aranea’s mind was still having trouble processing it – how they’d been used for so long.

“No, I don’t think so,” Vriska responded. “I think he genuinely wanted whatever was on those drives. That job was simple bad luck – the one you just tried to pull was the setup.”

“Why, though?”

Vriska shrugged broadly. “Who fucking knows? If I knew, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

She turned to step away from the desk, then turned back toward Aranea. “By the way, Meenah’s here too – she wanted to talk to you or some shit.”

* * *

Five minutes after Vriska had left the room, Meenah had appeared in the door. She looked different than the last time Aranea had seen her – something was in there behind her eyes that Aranea couldn’t quite place.

Meenah closed the door to the small room when she stepped inside. Suddenly the room was dim – lit only by the small lamp on the desk.

The gap between them was closed in a heartbeat as Meenah walked forward without hesitating.

Her lips were pressed up against Aranea’s – her arms around her waist. Aranea blinked and then closed her eyes.

A moment later, apart. Meenah looking into her eyes.

“I thought you were dead,” she said quietly.

“I thought I’d never get to tell you.” There was a sincerity in Meenah’s voice that Aranea found almost uncomfortable – there was no one else in the hospital room to hear her. “After I found you on the roof.”

Meenah reached up and touched the burn scar gently – there were tears in her eyes. “I… it was just like a half sweep ago.”

Aranea struggled to remember, but there was only a blank wall before she woke up in the hospital. But something had happened – Meenah had seen something that had changed her.

Her hands traced their way down to the bandaged spot on Aranea’s side. “I thought you were dead.”

“Not a chance… _bitch.”_ Aranea smiled and leaned in to kiss Meenah again. She was smiling when Aranea pulled back again. “After everything you did for me back then?” Aranea winked.

“So what now?” Meenah asked. “Authority wants us to help them – what – hunt down Scratch? Not sure how they figure we’re gonna be able to do that.”

“I don’t know.” Aranea let her head sink down. “I’m not even sure where to start. The only reason I haven’t walked is I don’t think Scratch will just leave us alone.”

Meenah was looking past Aranea’s shoulder, staring.

“I thought you said you destroyed the drive.”

Aranea felt her hairs prickle all over. “I did… why?”

“Because it looks like you’ve got one of his message logs up on your terminal!”

The prickling sensation exploded into a full-blown crawl.

“No… I don’t…”

She turned.

? < Before you respond, sweet girl, I need you to understand something.   
? < The only reason you’re not all dead is because of me.   
? < There’s something larger at work here.   
? < So either you can be a good, obedient little girl and play along…   
? < Or I can really fuck you up.   
? < Your choice.

Aranea looked at Meenah, then back at the terminal. She slowly approached, as if it was going to bite her, and sat down in front of the keyboard.

AS > What the fuck do you want?   
AS > You tried to kill us!   
? < Please. If I wanted to KILL you you’d be dead.   
? < I calculated a 99.9% chance enough of you would survive.   
? < And a 23.6% chance ALL of you would survive.   
? < So honestly you’re quite lucky here.   
AS > What’s the point of this? Fucking with us?   
? < As delightful as that sounds, generally speaking… no.   
? < I’ll be plain

Aranea stared at the next two lines, her brain not quite willing to believe what her eyes were seeing.

? < I want to destroy the Alternian Empire.   
? < And I want you to help.


	16. Out of Step

“What? What does it say?” Meenah leaned in closer to see the screen for herself – scanned down to the bottom – and she actually  _ laughed _ .

“This is such a fucking trap,” she shook her head. There was no possible way that anyone was going to fall for this.

? < Is that Meenah Peixes I hear?   
? < Say hello, Meenah – you look as delicious as ever.   
? < Don’t worry, I can’t actually see you – but there IS audio.   
? < Audio which, by the way, I am co-opting from the Authority.   
? < How does it feel to be spied on?

“Oh fuck you – why shouldn’t we just let them know what you’re doing?

? < To what end, my darling Meenah?   
? < What would that accomplish for you?   
? < I would vanish like a gentle spring rain…   
? < And you would languish under the thumb of the Authority – the Empire

Meenah glared – she was pretty sure Scratch was telling the truth about not being able to see them, but it helped her conceptualize just how intensely  _ pissed off _ she was at him.

“So we should be, what, under  _ your _ thumb instead? Are you gonna send us into another meat grinder?”

? < I already told you – I weighed the odds.   
? < The probability of a sufficient number of you surviving was quite high.   
? < Although if I’m being honest I didn’t expect you to personally survive.   
? < I underestimated Ms. Serket’s concern for you, I suppose.

Meenah looked over at Aranea, who was visibly shaking in front of the terminal. Meenah put a hand on her shoulder, leaned in, and softly whispered in her ear. “Don’t let him get to you.”

? < I’m sorry, I’ll have to speak up – it’s not fair to whisper.

“Fuck you,” Meenah said. “It’s not fair to listen in either but here you go.”

? < In any case, you misunderstand me.   
? < My only goal is to free you from the servitude to the Empire.   
? < Doesn’t that sound at least a little bit appealing?

Meenah looked at Aranea – the troll was starting to cry, staring off into the screen. She muttered something to herself, too low to hear, and buried her head in her hands. Meenah put her arms around her upper body and squeezed.

“It’s okay,” she said to Aranea. She wasn’t good at this stuff. At trying to be soft. But the last few days had been a  _ lot _ and she wasn’t going to let it break her or the woman she cared about.

She leaned in and whispered in Aranea’s ear again. “I need to talk to you in private.”

Aranea sniffled and nodded.

“Look,” Meenah said in her normal voice, directing it at the telNet terminal. “I don’t know how the fuck you think you’re even going to make this work.”

? < It’s important that you consider your options carefully.   
? < You can listen to me or you can keep serving your Authority masters.   
? < Doesn’t the prospect of freedom seem… enticing?

“Sure. So did the prospect of having their lives back,” Meenah glared. “Look where it got them.”

? < But not you, right Ms. Peixes?   
? < My darling girl – the most precocious of them all.   
? < You know better than the rest, right? Because you’ve seen it from the top.   
? < Disgusting. No wonder you were labelled a blood traitor.

She growled. “You don’t know the first thing about it.”

? < Maybe.   
? < Imagine I’m shrugging because I don’t give a fuck.   
? < Work for me and live, or betray me and die. Your decision.   
? < It’s only a matter of time before I wrest control of enough systems…   
? < And then make your lives TRULY hellish.

A second later, the terminal blinked and only the burning amber screen was left. Aranea’s sobs echoed in the nearly-empty room.

“Come on,” Meenah said, “come with me.”

* * *

They’d each been given a small room to sleep in while they were in the Authority safehouse – just a basic room with a small pile to sleep on and a dresser with a few items of badly-fitting clothing that had been procured the day before for each of them. Meenah led Aranea inside the one she’d been assigned and closed the door.

She led Aranea to the pile and motioned for her to sit – the cerulean blood let herself fall into the soft pile of blankets and cushions and Meenah sat down next to her. She put her lips next to Aranea’s ear.

She spoke quietly – in a voice barely a whisper. “I assume he’s listening everywhere, somehow. There’s something I hadn’t told you yet – something I was planning to ask you after the job.”

Aranea nodded but said nothing – Meenah knew she already got the idea. She’d been working for Alternian intelligence for sweeps, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with this kind of thing.

Meenah's breath tickled Aranea’s ear. “I want you to go offworld with me… like… permanently.”

Aranea drew back and stared at Meenah – she shook her head.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered back. Meenah nodded and leaned in again.

“Horuss Zahhak owes me – there’s space on a colony ship heading out to one of the nicer worlds in system 874. Landfall, they called it. Uncreative… but it’s a name at least.”

“What about Scratch?” Aranea’s whisper tickled Meenah’s ear back and she found herself blushing in spite of everything.

“He doesn’t know,” she said quietly – she needed it to stay that way. “No one knows. I kept it off all the telNet systems… didn’t talk about it on the phone. Everything in the real… I didn’t want anyone to know.” She paused. “I’m serious – I want you to come with me. Leave all this shit and just… start over somewhere.”

She seemed to draw up into herself a bit, and Meenah felt a pang in her chest.

Was it something I said?

Aranea sighed – a sound heavy with the weight of the world. She looked down and muttered something that Meenah couldn’t make out. Meenah leaned in close again, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“I don’t know,” Aranea said – her voice was even quieter than it needed to be in order to ensure she wasn’t being overheard. Quieter than Meenah thought possible. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Meenah felt her heart drop – she hadn’t realized up until then just how important this was to her. Hadn’t realized how devastated she would feel to hear those words.

She couldn’t think of what to say next.

Aranea shifted, her face downcast. “I’m sorry… but… I don’t want to be cut off like that.”

Meenah shook her head. “What are you talking about? It’s an established colony. I mean – it’s not gonna be glamorous, but it’ll be comfortable. You know how much fucking  _ money _ I’ve still got? Why did you think I didn’t care what Scratch had to offer? Because I still had  _ you _ and nothing else he could offer could possibly mean shit.”

Aranea wasn’t looking up at her – was, in fact, pointedly avoiding her gaze.

The same quiet voice – “I’m… I don’t think that’s enough for me. I’m sorry, Meenah… I miss it. I miss the plugged-in way it made me feel. I miss the… I miss the _knowing._ ”

The Felt. She missed the Felt. Meenah felt her insides start to turn flips – her guts twisting around and around inside her. She was going to be sick.

“I mean…” Aranea trailed off. “Isn’t it all a big lie? The Authority or the Empire or whoever… the whole reason things like  _ blood traitor _ even mean anything?”

She’s… she’s not…

“You’re not actually thinking about what he  _ said, _ are you?” The feeling in her gut changed – now she felt like throwing up. “You’re not seriously considering what that creep said, are you?!”

Aranea… shrugged. Meenah’s guts told her to throw up, but she wasn’t going to. Her face twisted into a mask of disgust and she pulled away from Aranea a bit – they were no longer touching.

“I can’t believe this,” she said – her voice louder now – the idea of hiding from Scratch’s potential surveillance abandoned. “I can’t believe you’re really thinking about what he said.”

“What choice do we have,” Aranea said, her voice turning to pleading. “And what does it even matter? What do we owe the Empire? You just want to run away!” Her voice was growing louder and she was scowling now.

“That’s a load of shit!” Meenah snapped back. “What do you think the  _ calculated odds _ will be the next time? Will we have better than a 24% chance of survival? What about just one of us? That’s worth it? For what… so you can be a goddamn  _ Felt junkie?! _ ”

Aranea drew back as if she’d been slapped, her eyes a window of hurt and confusion.

NO! No, I didn’t – not like that – I didn’t

“That’s how you feel about me?” Her eyes were watery and her lip was quivering. “After everything we’ve been through – that’s what you see? I… I opened up to you! I was  _ honest _ with you!” Her mouth hung slightly open – as if she had more to say but couldn’t quite find the words.

“It’s not like that!” Meenah gasped out, starting to move forward.

Aranea leaned back, then slid off the pile and got to her feet.

“It doesn’t matter. You can feel however you want about me.” She walked to the door.

Stop her! Say something!

Meenah opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out – her mind was betraying her.

Say anything!

Aranea slammed the door behind her.

Meenah was alone in the room, staring at the shadow of where Aranea had once stood.


	17. In Keeping

**2nd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee**   
**Authority Safehouse, North Alternian Capitol**

Sister Meulin – that was what she’d always been to him, really. They had a bond that was hard to explain to outsiders – something akin to matesprits in many ways, but very different in others. Born out of shared trauma and pain – albeit from vastly different sources. But Meulin and he had seen something in each other that connected them from when they met. Kurloz offered Meulin a chance to walk the road back from her past, and she gave him a touchstone when the world became too much to handle.

Kurloz had walked with a certainty that was unshakable – that the Mirthful Messiahs would be there to guide him and help him protect the ones he cared about. Even if the road became dark and winding, they would exist as a grinning beacon of joy to help him along.

Even after the last time – after the terror and death – he had still seen their guidance stretched out in front of him. It wasn’t the end of the road, but merely another twist that would lead him off to the side but then, inevitably, take him back again. It was the way of the Mirthful Ones. It had always been.

They were gone. Either they had vanished… or they had never existed in the first place.

Instead, the devil who spoke in the white text was all he could see. Kurloz hadn’t told the others what he’d seen, because they didn’t need to know. But the lines still burned white-hot in his memory

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▓▓▓ ▒ │  
│ ▒ ▒ │  
│ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ │  
│ │  
│ WELCOME │  
│ │  
│ Mr. Makara, I know your proclivity for substances of the mind- │  
│ altering nature, so I’ll make this as brief and simple as I can. │  
│ │  
│ I’m aware of your unique relationship to Ms. Leijon. I know how │  
│ much you care for her. │  
│ │  
│ Your Messiahs are a lie. There is a war coming. │  
│ You will go with Aranea Serket when she comes to find you. │  
│ You will help her. Then you will help me. │  
│ │  
│ Why will you help me? Simple. │   
│ Because if you help me then Meulin Leijon lives a long and │  
│ happy life. │  
│ Maybe. │  
│ │  
│ And if you don’t, Meulin Leijon will die screaming in agony. │  
│ Definitely. │  
│ Make your choice, Mr. Makara. │  
│ -Scratch │  
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

* * *

The burning eye and the name of the devil still seared into his mind, Kurloz wandered the halls of the Authority safe house. They’d been given free run of the place – which meant that it wasn’t a permanent or important building. The Authority members themselves – he’d seen at least three of them around, plus a handful of doctors and other support staff – all came and went seemingly at random.

Mituna and Meulin were recovering in their own rooms, and Aranea and Meenah were around. The woman named Porrim was here too, but she mostly kept to herself. They’d already been there two days and Kurloz had seen her maybe once or twice when they were all given meals in the communal dining room.

It reminded Kurloz strongly of the re-education center he’d been in as a wiggler. Before he truly gave his life over to the Mirthful Messiahs.

Before he started on the road to their betrayal.

Kurloz kept walking down the hallway, turning aimlessly. The building seemed to consist of a series of mostly-empty rooms with a few basic amenities. In addition to their own rooms and the dining area, there were a handful of small office spaces that each had a telNet terminal in them. There was also a medical examination room that was kept locked unless the medical staff needed to use it. There was also a large common area with chairs, tables, and a shelf full of old books that Kurloz didn’t have the desire or energy to look through.

At the end of his wandering, Kurloz found himself in the common room. There was, as usual, no one there…

No, that wasn’t right.

The jade blood woman – Porrim – she was sitting in the corner of the room, holding a book. But from her expression, she wasn’t reading it. Kurloz walked over to her.

“My jade blooded sister, are you okay?” he asked, bluntly. Subtlety, Kurloz had found, was highly overrated.

Porrim looked up at him, setting her book down in her lap. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you okay?” Kurloz took a seat near her. “You’ve talked to the devil.”

“The devil?” Porrim raised an eyebrow. “I assume you mean Scratch?”

Kurloz nodded. “The very same, my sister. The one who talks in the spaces between the telNet void with his white-burn lies.”

“Yeah,” she snorted and turned away. “I don’t know you – don’t call me _sister_ like I’m part of your damn church.”

He blinked and looked at her. Most folks didn’t talk to him like that – he knew they tended to find him either intimidating or off-putting. Neither of which was conducive to pushing back against him. But this woman was different – she had a look about her that Kurloz couldn’t quite place. If anything, it was like how those who’d seen into the ultra-black looked. Into the Deep Felt out there on the edge of the stars. The void space where hidden terrors danced, just outside the edge of the Alternian mind.

“What did he do to you?” Kurloz asked, his voice low and full of secret menace. Porrim turned back and narrowed her eyes.

“He killed the woman I loved – had some hand in it.” She looked back away. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you left me the fuck alone.”

* * *

Kurloz wandered the halls some more until he finally ended up outside of the room where Mituna was still recovering. Peering inside, he saw that Mituna was sitting up in bed and fidgeting with his hands. Kurloz stepped inside and Mituna looked up with a smile.

“Hey, Kurloz!” He looked like it hurt to even speak.

“My brother,” Kurloz crossed the room and put a hand on Mituna’s blanket-covered knees. “How do you feel on this… day.” He couldn’t bring himself to talk of the Mirthful Ones or any of those lies.

“I’m… I’m not doing great. My head hurts so much.” He stared off, past Kurloz, off into something that wasn’t really there. Something he’d seen a long time before – in the deep void of space. Kurloz nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

Silence – Kurloz stood by the side of the bed and watched in silence as Mituna frowned and contemplated something from another place or time. Kurloz had always told himself that the ultra-black was something apart from the protection and light of the Messiahs. That it was something _lacking_. Now he suspected the truth – that the Messiahs had already turned their backs on him. Long ago. Whether or not they were even real…

But the ultra-black was real. He’d seen the evidence first-hand in Mituna’s eyes.

“You saved me…” Mituna said quietly, his voice shaking. “Another few seconds and…” He didn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t have to. Kurloz had never been inside the Felt, but he knew all the stories about what happened to Felt techs who burned out. How the brain turned to a barely-functioning lump of lukewarm jelly and they were never themselves again.

Mituna went silent again – he frowned. “It wasn’t like last time. Not exactly. That was more like… I don’t know… it was like the difference between getting punched in the face and getting hit with a fucking sledgehammer.”

He brought his hand up to his right eye and pressed in, wincing visibly. “God… if I never have to do that again…”

“Brother, you should never have been forced to do it in the first place.”

“Forced?” Mituna asked. “Who forced me? I made the choice to drop into the Felt.”

“Did you, brother?” Kurloz stared at Mituna until the troll dropped his eyes. “Pushed into the Fleet by the Empire. Pushed to do what they said you were _naturally_ good at. Pushed to open yourself up to the ultra-black beyond the stars.”

He saw Mituna gasp. “The _what_ beyond the stars?”

Mituna pushed himself up in the bed – his face… he _knew_ what Kurloz was talking about, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it.

“Nothing, brother. You rest and don’t worry about it.” Kurloz smiled and Mituna seemed to relax again.

“How’s Meulin? They won’t really tell me anything specific here and I’m not allowed to get up and walk around until tomorrow.” He grimaced – this was obviously bothering him.

Kurloz wasn’t going to try to soften the truth – his void-whisperer brother deserved to know the truth. “She was hurt – her hearing is gone – but she’s alive and still full of fight.”

That got Mituna to smile a little. “Good.”

Another pause for silence – another chance for Mituna to stare out into the blank space between what was and what wasn’t.

“Kurloz… he set us up… what are we gonna do?”

Of course the conversation would turn here eventually. Back to the devil who burned bright on the telNet but remained forever out of view behind the dead screens. Kurloz felt himself bristle.

“I don’t know, my brother… but I’m… I’m meditating on it.” The word _praying_ had been right on the tip of his tongue, but it felt so wrong to say that now. A spike of anger rose up inside of his mind and he pushed it back down. It wasn’t the right time… yet.

There was a knock on the doorframe and Kurloz turned to see Latula standing there. She nodded to Kurloz. “You two busy? I needed to talk to Mituna for a minute. Kind of a private thing.”

“No worries, sister Latula,” Kurloz said with a nod. “I was just on my way to check on something else.”

* * *

It was almost as if the telNet terminal was calling to him. Kurloz knew that there was a terminal available in one of the rooms to the side – a general-use terminal in what amounted to a walk-in closet off to one side of one of the hallways. He wasn’t even sure what the terminal was intended to be used for, but there it was. Just sitting there on a little desk.

He sat down in front of the terminal, the orange glow of the screen blazing in front of him. Without thinking, he began to type.

KM > YOU THERE, DEVIL?

He wasn’t sure _why_ he felt the need to do this – wasn’t sure _why_ he thought that the aether of the telNet space would allow him to reach out. He wasn’t even sure if the terminal was connected…

? < I can see you there, Kurloz Makara.  
? < Not literally, of course. Not yet.  
? < But I can see you in the void space…  
? < As you’re so fond of calling it.  
KM > YOU TRIED TO MURDER THEM!  
KM > TRIED TO KILL MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS!  
? < Murder? You’re so fucking simplistic.  
? < I made a calculated risk in service of a larger goal.  
KM > YOU LIED TO US!  
? < Who? To you?  
? < I told you one thing…  
? < That Ms. Leijon had a CHANCE at a long and happy life.  
? < I was unclear as to the specifics or probability.  
? < How did I lie?  
KM > SHE'S HURT AND THE MESSIAHS ARE GONE!   
? < Quite right on both counts.  
? < Actually I’m fairly certain the Messiahs you speak of are wholly fictional.  
KM > FUCK YOU!  
? < You know I can still help your friends, right?  
KM > FUCKING LIAR!  
? < Whatever – this isn’t productive.

The terminal suddenly went blank, the traces of the words echoing for the briefest moment before they were lost.

Kurloz screamed and smashed a fist down on the keyboard, sending keys flying in every direction.


	18. Supply and Demand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains warnings for  
> -Discussions of relationships/infidelity  
> -Semi-graphic descriptions of physical violence

**2nd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

So this is probably gonna suck. A lot.

Latula stepped aside to let Kurloz back out into the hall – he passed by with a brief nod and then she was standing there in the room with Mituna – he was in the bed, looking… she wasn’t sure. Looking haggard and a little bit lost. It was probably a bad time for the conversation she was about to start.

But that’d been the problem before – there was  _ never _ a good time. It was  _ always  _ a bad time so the conversation had never even happened.

It felt like it was just going to keep getting worse.

So they were doing this now.

“Hey… how’re you doing?” Latula asked as she approached the bed. Mituna looked at her and tried to smile.

“Like someone popped my goddamn head.” He closed his eyes, pressing his hands into the hollow at the bridge of his nose. “Nothing they give me helps.”

I can’t believe I let this sit for so long.   
  
What the fuck is wrong with me?

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey… I think we need to talk about something. I wanted to say this for a while but… guess I never found the right time to say it.”

Mituna groaned. “Is this about you and Damara?”

She blinked – she was sure her mouth was open.

“Yeah…” he still had his eyes closed and his hands pressed firmly into the eye sockets. “You two weren’t exactly subtle in the first place.”

Still processing what he was saying – still trying to figure out  _ how _ he’d known and why he didn’t seem to care. He was still talking –

“I never said I had a problem with that kind of thing. Do what makes you happy – pretty sure I said something like that when we started seeing each other. I’m sorry… it’s hard to think right now.”

She was pretty sure he  _ had _ , in fact, said something. Now that she thought on it. She wanted to tell herself that it was the  _ reason _ she’d felt so ready to hook up with Damara. After all, if she  _ knew _ it was okay then there was nothing to feel guilty about! Except that felt like a damnable lie, because she  _ had _ felt guilty and she did it anyway. She wasn’t sure what that said about her. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that said about her.

“Oh…” Latula let the word fade. “I guess – if you’re not mad or anything.”

“I appreciate you finally telling me, I guess. I never actually expected you to… or asked you to. It’s not like you were shitty to me because you wanted to fuck Damara.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever.”

Latula felt herself blushing – she’d been prepared for a few different ways this might go, but this hadn’t been what she expected. She put a hand on Mituna’s chest and he placed one of his over it, not opening his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know what you were expecting or what you want me to say. I have no problem with this – I don’t even have the right to have a problem with this. Either I’m okay not being the only person you’re with or I’m not, but I have no right to ask you not to feel however you do about Damara. I’m okay with it, and honestly right now I feel like my fucking head is gonna explode so… I’m not gonna draw this out. We’re good.”

She smiled at him – he didn’t see it with his eyes squeezed tight but she did it anyway.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway.

Latula turned to see two of the Authority standing there – Terezi and a tall troll she’d met once named Sollux. Sollux was the one clearing his throat.

“I have to run some additional tests on Mituna here.”

Latula stared. “But… you’re not a doctor, are you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “These aren’t the sort of tests a normal doctor would be able to run.” He left that somewhat ominous-sounding statement hanging without further explanation as he walked into the room.

Terezi didn’t move. “Latula, grab your shit and come with me,” she said. “Consider yourself provisionally reinstated into the Legiscorpus and promoted to the rank of Deputy Legislacerator.”

Latula said nothing, but Terezi continued anyway. “Anyway – gear up because we’re going on a little errand.”

* * *

**Bronze District, North Alternian Capitol**

“You let me do the talking,” Terezi was saying as she steered the electric car around the corner toward where Cronus’ neon hell of a shop was located. “I have a feeling I’ve got more experience with this than you do.”

Latula didn’t say anything back – Terezi was probably right.

“You watch me, you listen to me. If things get weird, we’re not sticking around.”

Latula tilted her head. “You sound… nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous!” Terezi laughed at the remark and shook her head. “Only idiots go in without a little bit of an edge. How the hell do you think I stayed alive as long as I did?”

It wasn’t a mean feat – the Legislacerators didn’t exactly spend their days pushing paper around.

The car drifted to a stop and Terezi shut the engine down. She reached inside the short coat she was wearing and drew out a pistol, then handed it to Latula. “Hold onto this and don’t use it unless you see me go first.”

Out of the car and walking toward the front door of the shop – Latula saw the reflections slant and distort in the puddles left over from the rain the day before. Terezi walked with a confidence that Latula desperately wished she could match – the kind of confidence born of long years of facing down the utterly impossible and somehow living to come out on the other end. In spite of everything that she’d seen from the inside of it, Latula couldn’t help but find herself a little bit in awe. She projected everything about what the Legislacerators were that had drawn Latula into the Legiscorpus in the first place. Even though it gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she felt a sense of  _ pride _ being here.

Terezi pushed through the double doors that led into the shop floor, hard enough that they banged out against the walls on either side. Behind the counter, Cronus looked up with a shocked expression. He was clearly not expecting this. Latula wasn’t sure how to take that particular piece of information, so she simply chose to hang back and watch as Terezi approached.

“Babe! Whatcha’ doin’ in here?” He looked at Latula and tried on a smile that looked even more ridiculous for the cigarette that was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t believe I’ve been introduced to your pretty friend here.” He leaned across the counter and raised his eyebrows at Terezi.

Four broad steps and she was across the floor and at the counter, but she wasn’t stopping. With a single, fluid motion she reached out, hooked her hand behind Cronus’ head, and brought his face down into the solid wooden counter with a  _ thunk _ that resounded through the entire counter.

Cronus screamed, his cigarette lost in the general confusion and a splay of violet was on his forehead where the impact of the counter had broken the skin against his skull. He started to fall back until Terezi caught him by the collar.

“You goddamn _bitch_ ,” he cried as he started to raise his hands – Terezi punched him in the nose and he screamed again as the cartilage crunched and a new stream of violet ran down.

“Do you know who I am…” Cronus muttered around the definitely-broken nose as he rocked back against Terezi’s grip. “You see what  _ color _ that blood is…”

“Not exactly,” she said – her voice was low… dangerous. “But I can see the liar’s heat in your face. I can see right through your fucking _blood color_.” She spat the last two words out.

She moved her grip and she had him by the throat. With a shift of her body, Terezi pulled Cronus half-over the counter and slammed him down. Speckles of violet dotted Terezi’s hands and coat and she was grinning at him.

“We’re gonna have a  _ talk _ , Ampora… gonna have a nice chat about your clients and such.”

She dragged him over the counter, leaving a faint trail of blood along the wood as he was pulled down to the floor. Terezi knelt down on his back and drew her pistol and held it to the back of Cronus’ head.

What the fuck is she doing?!

Latula froze – she wasn’t even sure what she was witnessing. Even though she knew the Legislacerators’ reputation, actually seeing this in front of her eyes… she had no idea what to do.

“I’m going to give you a choice,” Terezi was practically  _ growling _ as she spoke. “You can either tell me about your supplier for these folks’ last job… or I can empty the contents of your skull onto this floor.”

Cronus whimpered. “Please…”

“Make your choice.” For completely unnecessary emphasis, Terezi pulled the hammer back on the pistol.

“I don’t know what you want!” he cried out. “The man with the white text helped hook me up and said that Meenah’s crew would be getting in touch. He didn’t give me any details!”

“You didn’t think to ask where he got Fleet-issue wetware? That didn’t seem a little  _ odd _ to you?” Terezi pressed the gun up to the back of his head and he groaned.

“No! You know how much money he paid me to  _ not _ ask questions? Figure he had a high-level Fleet connect and poking too much around that would get me killed!”

Latula knelt down next to Cronus – he struggled to crane his neck up to look at her.

“What about the Fleet depot job,” Latula asked – she could hear the same danger creeping into her voice that she heard in Terezi’s. “Who passed that along to you?”

“It was the same guy!” Cronus let his head slump down to the floor, looking sideways off past Latula. “What does it matter?! He’s just one more middleman on the telNet –”

Without warning, Terezi slammed Cronus’ head down. “Shut the fuck up!”

Terezi cocked her head to the side. Without another word, she holstered the pistol, grabbed Cronus under the arm, and hauled him to his feet.

“We’re leaving right the fuck now!” Terezi began to force-walk Cronus to the door – Latula followed directly after. Halfway to the door, Terezi broke into a run and let go of Cronus’ arm.

“Run or fucking die!” She shouted and she began to sprint. Not waiting for an explanation, Latula and Cronus quickly matched pace with her.

Halfway to the car, Latula could hear it – a high whine in the distance. Terezi was running even faster, leaning forward and pushing herself forward. It seemed suddenly, desperately important to get as far away from Cronus’ shop as possible.

Latula heard a whistle in the air and then she was being pressed forward by something she couldn’t  _ see _ but could definitely  _ feel _ pushing on her back – a hot wave of pressure that carried her forward and throwing her into the ground near the electric car they’d arrived in. She skidded along the concrete and rolled awkwardly.

Next to her, Cronus hit the ground in a tumble, and from behind she suddenly heard the roar of an explosion as the shop disappeared into a storm of wind and fire.

Somehow, she remained conscious – she wasn’t sure about Cronus but she was able to keep crawling toward the electric car. Terezi was sheltered behind it, crouching low and bracing against the wheels of the car.

There was another gust and the hot blast of the explosion drove over her and faded. She struggled, but getting to her feet wasn’t an option – her arms and legs all seemed committed to keeping her face-down on the concrete while the wreckage of what had once been Cronus Ampora’s shop burned behind her.

Terezi had already opened the door to the electric car and grabbed the receiver for the radio phone. She was shouting into it, but the words were hard to hear – her ears were ringing and everything felt dull.

Cronus was lying nearby, groaning and rolling on the ground – the streams of brilliant purple blood had turned into rivers – estuaries that formed all over his skin now. Latula put a hand to her face and it came back sticky and wet – covered in a teal stain that sprung from a hundred tiny shrapnel wounds.

She turned over and lay down on her back, looking up at the sky. The dark plume of grease-smoke was already billowing out and she could smell the rancid burning plastic smell in the air.

Latula felt herself being dragged forward and glanced up to see Terezi’s face, set into a grimace. She pulled Latula behind the wheel well of the electric car and crouched down. Latula still couldn’t find the strength to get up.

Terezi was still shouting into the radio phone, but her voice sounded far away.

The acrid tang of the burning was thick and heavy in the back of her throat. She felt like she was going to choke, but she never quite did.

I wish I’d said something sooner…

It was the last conscious thought Latula had for some time.


	19. Frayed Connection

**2nd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

Was Mituna annoyed by what Latula had told him?

Yes, that was one way to put it. Annoyed. Frustrated. Maybe a little bit on the  _ angry _ side. Just a little bit.

Was he  _ hurt _ by what she told him?

Again… yes, he thought he was. She’d shown that she was more willing to throw up walls between them than he’d thought. They had, in fact, had that discussion at one point. Talked about quadrants and how that all worked between them. The fact that she’d apparently  _ forgotten _ that conversation hurt more than anything else she’d said…

More than her not feeling safe enough to tell him? Maybe. About the same? More than her being willing to do something she apparently believed to be wrong? He wasn’t sure on that one.

It was hard to tell, because his head literally felt like it was about to implode in on itself. However big a deal she’d thought this was going to be, it had been something that ultimately mattered so remarkably little right now. The truth of it was that Mituna couldn’t bring himself to  _ care _ about whatever Latula was going through. Her and Damara… sure, whatever. Go be happy together. Latula could deal with her guilt on her own time and Mituna really didn’t think he cared about that part of it all that much.

Sollux was still in the room with him, hooking electrodes up to his head and taking various readings on a small terminal he’d wheeled in. He was making a lot of concerning-sounding noises and scribbling notes on a pad of paper he had handy.

“Mituna – would you say that you feel any urges to act in a way that is unusually impulsive?” Sollux asked.

It was hard to focus on the questions that Sollux kept asking. Every time he would ask something odd and then write down the answer and no matter what the answer was, he would look more and more worried.

“No, I guess not – I don’t… don’t really feel the urge to do anything right now. My head is hurting so much. Can I have something for my head?”

Sollux shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t answer that – I’m not a medical doctor. But exposure to Felt defense tech can cause persistent headaches that are difficult to treat with standard painkillers.”

So that was a great piece of news. The blinding fire behind his temples was going to continue indefinitely because Sollux wasn’t a fucking medical doctor. Great.

Mituna groaned and closed his eyes tightly. He pressed his hands into that space right next to his eyes and pushed down  _ hard  _ – hopefully that would relieve some of the pressure that was now apparently threatening to pop his eyes out.

It was almost the same as that time in the Fleet. Almost. The same pain, but it hit him differently. It was so hard to precisely describe it – the more connected you got to the Felt the more abstract and hard to manage things became. The screen in front of you only held a tiny fraction of the picture – the rest was the vast array of sensory  _ noise _ that flowed in from every single conceivable source. It was, at first, completely overwhelming. Then you got used to it and you were able to filter it down and focus in on specific moments and pull them together.

Moments like your matesprit apparently not feeling that she owed you the basic courtesy to let you know that she was, in fact, doing a thing you’d said you were completely okay with.

Mituna let out a loud groan and kept his eyes closed.

“Do you find yourself thinking any unusually  _ violent _ thoughts?” Sollux asked.

Like what? Slapping his matesprit and the rustie that she…

That thought vanished almost immediately and Mituna opened his eyes to look at Sollux.

“No, I don’t think so. My head… it really hurts.”

“I know, believe me.” And for a moment there was a look of intense and genuine pity in Sollux’s face. “I wish there was more I could do.”

He removed the electrodes from Mituna’s temples. “That’s it for now. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Have you ever seen it…” Mituna trailed off. What was he asking about again? “Have you ever seen the deep Felt?”

“Only once,” Sollux spoke quietly as he stowed the cables to his instruments away on the side of the cart with the terminal on it. “I was mostly running support on the ship – making sure the Fleet techs had everything they needed. But I did have to dive in once.”

“He calls it the ultra-black.” Mituna didn’t bother to explain who he was referring to. It didn’t feel like it mattered at all. “You go in there enough… you start to feel like something’s watching you. Not like the Felt in general – something else.”

Something awake and aware. Something  _ hungry _ that watched you with the sleepy eyes of a predator that knew that, eventually, you would swim down to it. Because you didn’t really have a choice.

Mituna stared at Sollux, his eyes wide. “Some of them got addicted to the feeling of being in the Felt. Not me, though. After that…”

It changed you. Made you into a different person on the other end. The more you thought on it – the more the experience sat inside you. The more you went back in… the closer and closer those hungry things got. The less and less you cared about anything else.

Why the fuck couldn’t she just SAY something?!   
  
Would it have been HARD?!   
  
Would it have hurt anyone?!

Mituna had to stop himself because his head was hurting even  _ worse _ now and he didn’t think that was possible. It didn’t even matter – once you stared deeply enough, nothing did.

Sollux was already on his way out when the loud, annoying one showed up at the door – Vriska. She grabbed Sollux’s arm and glared.

“We’ve got a serious fucking problem.” She shot a glance over at Mituna and squeezed Sollux’s arm hard enough that he grimaced.

* * *

It wasn’t clear how long passed before Mituna was again shaken from the half-stupor he found himself in. A bustling in the hallway – people shouting. Medical personnel calling out. He couldn’t make out much – tried to concentrate and focus in on what was happening. Tried to understand what was being said.

They went by his room, wheeling someone on a stretcher. Someone else after. Even though the door to his room had been left open, it wasn’t clear who it was. Latula? He wasn’t sure.

Didn’t know if he particularly cared either. His head still hurt so much. Everything felt distant and insignificant.

He closed his eyes and tried to drift away from consciousness again.

* * *

A tap on his shoulder brought him back and Mituna realized that he’d been asleep. Kurloz was standing over him, brows furrowed.

“Brother, your matesprit’s been hurt.”

A simple statement – Mituna felt like he should be hurt by it. He felt like he should want to get up and run to see what happened. Instead, all he could think of was a void that stretched out forever and called to him. A place in his mind that would never be occupied by anything else, no matter what. An emptiness that had forever poisoned every relationship he’d ever had or was ever going to have.

Maybe that was why she went to find someone else to slot into her quadrants. Another matesprit that wouldn’t push her away so completely. Because Latula had been through her own trials, but she had never faced the ultra-black. She’d never had the unique experience of having everything about herself systematically broken down and stripped away until there was absolutely nothing left. Only a bright spot of pain remained when the Felt defense was done burrowing inside your mind.

“Did you hear me, my brother – Mituna!” Kurloz actually used his name and nothing else. That was rare enough that it got Mituna’s attention. He turned, feeling almost lethargic as he did it.

“What?”

Kurloz frowned and looked confused. “I said… your matesprit – she’s been hurt. Her and the sister with the thermal eyes went to find the dealer – something went bad.”

“Is she – is she going to live?” It was about the most concern that seemed truly genuine that he could muster.

“I think so?” Kurloz didn’t sound at all sure. “She looked bloody but the dealer looked worse. I think the good sister will recover.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off and stared past Kurloz.

“Kurloz?”

Kurloz leaned forward and nodded. “Yes, brother?”

“Do you know what I see when I close my eyes?” He paused. “Nothing – a nothing so deep that it hurts to look at. Ever since the Fleet – I’ve been trying desperately to forget what it looks like. The Felt feels so alive… there’s so much there… but…”

He stopped because he realized that he was crying and he had no idea when that had started. It didn’t even feel like anything – there was just a wet stain on his cheeks now.

“There’s always the deep Felt underneath. Did you know that? Did you know that everything is built on top of it? They always made it sound like it was something different, but it’s not. It’s so much  _ more _ than we all thought. I wish I’d known…”

He could hear himself starting to  _ laugh _ now. He had no idea why, but he was laughing and everything was so small and unimportant. Everything Latula had told him. Her being injured. The betrayal. Scratch. The Authority. Everything faded away.

Underneath everything, the forever of the ultra-black. The beginning and the end of all things.

“I wish I’d never seen it…” he felt like he was going to throw up – didn’t know if it was from the pain or from some gut-wrenching epiphany that he was in the process of having. Once he’d seen it, everything else felt like it was hiding in that long shadow.

Did Scratch know about it?

The deep Felt – did he know what it looked like? How the experience picked over your mind until there was nothing left to see. How much did he actually know about everything? Did he know how Mituna’s mind wandered to those dark places when he should be sleeping? How he couldn’t stop thinking about them even when he was in the arms of the woman he was supposed to love?

No wonder she went to someone else.

Someone who’d never peered over the edge of that abyss.

But, strangely, he couldn’t find the will inside himself to be  _ angry _ about that fact. Even in spite of the brief moments of rage he felt dance around the edges of his unconscious mind, on the terminal side of everything he wanted only to disappear into the ultra-black. To feel nothing anymore and become one with the deep Felt.

The feeling was gone and Mituna blinked, looking at Kurloz. For a second, he saw the light of  _ understanding _ in Kurloz’s eyes. The man  _ knew _ what he was thinking. Somehow. Somehow he’d show himself and they connected in a way that Mituna hadn’t with anyone before in his life.

He didn’t care anymore. Latula could do what she wanted. He hoped, at least on some level, that she wasn’t badly hurt. She deserved to be happy as much as anyone else. If she and Damara made each other feel good, then Mituna supposed that was something worth celebrating in some abstract, cosmic way.

But out there, sitting in the doorway between the conscious and unconscious mind, a presence of unfathomable  _ age _ and indescribable  _ knowing _ watched him.

Watched.

Waited.

And soon he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist it anymore.


	20. Solid State

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **1st Alternian Fleet, R &D Command Division, North Alternian**

That morning, Vriska had pulled Aranea and Damara aside and told her they were going outside the city to the research and development command post for the 1st Alternian Fleet. She didn’t make it sound like either of them had much of a choice in the matter, so after changing into fresh clothes they all ended up in an older compression-engine sedan blasting north of the city, the powerful motor chewing up the miles as they drove along in silence.

The 1st Alternian Fleet had its main command center about an hour north of the city. It consisted of a series of interlinked squad, gray concrete buildings ringed by layers of fencing and defensive emplacements. The area Alternian battleships were docked in space for ease of maintenance and deployment, but there was a series of runways and landing pads that serviced the various shuttles and smaller craft that were brought in-atmosphere with any degree of regularity.

The crown jewel was a massive reinforced tower that loomed over the center of the facility. Within this tower were some of the best and brightest minds in the Alternian Fleet. Within the very same tower, Aranea knew, were also some of the deepest  _ secrets _ of the Alternian Fleet.

The outer ring of the complex was dotted with guard posts, and a single road funnelled in from outside. Vriska pulled up to the checkpoint, rolled down her window, and cut the engine. She placed her hands on the dashboard and waited. Aranea followed her example, looking straight forward at the body-armor-clad guards who were slowly approaching the vehicle with rifles drawn. From the back seat, she heard Damara mutter something under her breath as she shifted and placed her hands on the back of the passenger-side headrest.

While two of the heavily-armed guards stood back, one approached the car with his weapon slung around his shoulder.

“Identification,” he said plainly. Vriska reached slowly inside her jacket and pulled out an ID badge. The guard took the badger and Aranea saw his eyes grow wide. He ran back to the guard post and picked up a telephone handset.

Vriska was smiling. “I always get a kick out of this part.”

As Aranea watched, the guard on the phone became increasingly agitated. Even from a distance, it was obvious that something critical was happening. After a couple minutes, he stood up straight and slammed the receiver down. He then ran outside and started talking quickly to the other two guards.

Twenty seconds later, they had lowered their weapons and moved to the side. Vriska put her hands down and nodded.

“You can both relax,” she said. “They know who we are now.”

* * *

Once they were inside the perimeter, moving around became substantially quicker. The guards radioed ahead to the next post and they were waved through without even stopping. But Aranea noticed that the guards looked nervous when they saw Vriska’s car drive by. They didn’t salute as if she were a high-ranking member of the military… they shifted and looked away.

The road gradually descended – moving down into a tunnel that took them underneath the surface and into a network of cavernous undercrofts buttressed with massive support columns. Personal vehicles were parked in lots within, along with various armored response trucks that Aranea assumed were detailed to the various Fleet security response teams that would be undoubtedly stationed throughout the complex. Judging by the number of vehicles, the size of the security force within was considerable.

“It’s a fortress,” Damara said from the back seat.

Vriska grinned. “Damn right it is. And just wait until you see where we’re going.”

After a few more minutes, Vriska turned the car and they were traveling straight in toward the central tower. They continued to descend, passing several levels of underground facilities of indeterminate function. Another five minutes and they reached their destination – a final guard station in front of a small parking lot surrounded by a reinforced concrete wall. Vriska stopped the car and switched off the engine again.

The guard that approached this time didn’t seem nervous – she was easily a head taller than Vriska and made entirely of lean, hard muscle covered in a black jumpsuit and a layer of body armor. She smiled at Vriska.

“Nice of you to drop by.” She reached out a hand and Vriska passed her the ID badge. The giant troll woman walked back to her post, checked something on a terminal, and walked back to give Vriska her badge.

“Commander’s expecting you,” she said.

Vriska smiled at her. “You know she hates being called that.”

The guard laughed and slapped the roof of the car. “Yeah, well – you gonna tell her?”

Vriska put on an air of mock seriousness. “Tell the  _ Commander _ that someone is improperly attributing an Alternian Fleet rank to her? I would never do such a thing.”

They both laughed that time, and the guard gave Vriska a pat on the shoulder before waving her through.

* * *

At the end of the small parking lot was a nondescript door that led into an equally nondescript lobby lined with reinforced concrete. There was a single elevator at one end, opposite a desk staffed by a bored-looking troll wearing the same kind of body armor as the rest of the guards.

Aranea, Vriska, and Damara all boarded the elevator. As it rose, Aranea heard Vriska clear her throat.

“Let’s get some shit straight. After what you two did with the Fleet depot, it’s a miracle you’re being allowed in here. You’re my guests – and that counts for a lot until I decide it doesn’t. You be nice, you be polite, and you be fucking helpful or I’ll make sure they toss you out of the top window of this tower.”

The rest of the ride was uncomfortably silent as the elevator slowly ground its way up what Aranea presumed was the massive central tower. It took nearly ten full minutes for it to reach the top. When it finally did, the heavy armored door on the elevator opened out onto a massive open floor lined with terminals and equipment. Two armored guards stood by the elevator, cautiously regarding the new arrivals as the elevator opened.

Standing directly in front of the elevator – having obviously been waiting for them – was a talle Alternian woman with elongated, elegant features. She wore the dark green uniform of an Alternian Fleet Commander, but she bore no rank or unit insignia. He hands were clasped behind her back and she had a cold expression on her face.

“You promised you would arrive yesterday,” she said, her voice the very model of precision. “I am disappointed.”

Vriska snorted. “Really? We ran into a few unexpected issues, in case you didn’t hear.”

“I did,” the woman nodded. “However the work we have to do here is important.”

She turned to look at Aranea and Damara. “My apologies for the rude greeting. My name is Kanaya – I am presently in command of this installation. Unfortunately we do not have time for additional pleasantries, as we have several things to attend to.”

She waved a hand and a troll woman wearing a science officer’s uniform appeared from behind a terminal. Kanaya nodded to her. “Please prepare the equipment in my office – we will be by presently.” The woman nodded and left – Kanaya turned back to the others.

“Ms. Serket – if you’ll please come with me. Vriska and Ms. Megido – you two are free to wait out here together.”

Kanaya motioned with a hand and Aranea moved forward to join her. As they walked back through the large, open room Aranea tried to take stock of her surroundings. Terminals were everywhere – Aranea suspected that most of them were only tied into the local network with no outside access at all. Judging by the look of the equipment, this facility’s security from a telNet or Felt attack was at least as good as its security against a physical one.

“I see you admiring out facilities,” Kanaya said with a smirk. “I am familiar with your background, of course. You are most welcome to ask questions, although I do not promise any answers. You understand, of course.”

It wasn’t a question – Aranea nodded. “This place… is it connected to the Felt at all?”

Kanaya laughed. “Now  _ that  _ is the question of someone with a highly practical experience with the Felt. They did not teach you any theory in the AIS?”

“No, they were bigger on practical application,” Aranea responded with a shrug. Kanaya’s smile broadened.

“Of course not. In brief, there is really no such thing as a system that is  _ not _ connected to the Felt. There is only the ability to isolate, protect, and control. But the actual act of disconnecting completely – it is difficult for a number of complex theoretical reasons. I could talk for hours – and there is one of our number who could talk for days. She has, in fact, made her life’s work out of understanding certain esoteric elements of the Felt technology.”

Kanaya shrugged. “But I am becoming long-winded. The simple answer is that yes, we are connected to the Felt. There are, however, many security measures in place to prevent unwanted access from malicious parties.”

The path they took led around and corner and through a door into a smaller side hallway. It was less impressive than the main room, but Aranea could still feel the electric thrum of the place. Everywhere, there was the buried pulse of the machine being – the logic of the code that formed its very soul. She could practically taste the Felt all around her.

They stopped when they reached a small door on the side of the hallway, nondescript and unassuming. Kanaya punched a series of keystrokes into the pad by the door and it clicked open. Inside was simple – a series of workbenches and a handful of telNet terminals. On one of the benches Aranea saw an unfamiliar Felt wetware headset.

Kanaya motioned to a chair in front of one of the benches. “Please, sit down.”

Once Aranea was seated, Kanaya leaned up against the bench and continued. “It is my understanding that you cannot use the Felt without risking severe damage to your brain, correct?”

Aranea nodded. “Ever since the depot job… yeah.”

“Would you like the chance to be able to swim those halcyon waters once more?”

Aranea could feel her eyes growing wide in her head. “Scratch… he promised me…” she didn’t have the heart to continue.

“I know. And maybe he could keep his word or maybe he couldn’t. But I can tell you that we might be able to provide you with a similar outcome.”

She turned to a terminal on the workbench and booted it up – the amber burn came alive and Aranea craned to make out what was on the screen.

FLEETWEAR DIAGNOSTIC TOOLKIT V3.14   
==============================================   
  
PLEASE CONNECT LEADS TO SUBJECT TO ENTER   
DIAGNOSTIC MODE   
  
==============================================

Kanya took a long cable from the back of the terminal and walked over to Aranea – she started to place the other end – a set of two metal nodes with an elastic headband connecting them – on her temples before Aranea put up a hand.

“Wait! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Relax.” Kanaya smiled at her. “This will simply read the status of your internal wetware interface.”

The nodes were cool against her forehead, but the sensation wasn’t an unpleasant one. Once everything was connected, Kanaya looked back at her terminal.

FLEETWEAR DIAGNOSTIC TOOLKIT V3.14   
==============================================   
  
SUBJECT CONNECTED…   
READING WETWARE INTERFACE   
...   
...   
WETWARE IDENTIFIED:   
V1.8AIS MOD2   
  
CHECKING LATENCY BUFFER   
...   
...   
...   
ERROR: BUFFER INCONSISTENCY DETECTED

“What does that mean?” Aranea squinted to read the text on the screen. “Latency buffer?”

“The wetware interface contains a small data storage segment – hardly more than enough to store a few lines of text data – designed to deal with short-term latency issues when connecting to the Felt regardless of the wetware used. It was more of an issue with slightly older models – more recent upgrades and the phasing out of some of the older Army issue devices have largely rendered the latency buffer obsolete. However…”

Her face told Aranea that there was more to the story. “However?”

Kanaya frowned. “This may be part of the reason you cannot connect to the Felt without physical damage. At least… I suspect that may be the case.”

FLEETWEAR DIAGNOSTIC TOOLKIT V3.14   
==============================================   
  
| CLEAR BUFFER   
CLEARING LATENCY BUFFER   
...   
...   
LATENCY BUFFER OFFLOADED

“That might help – I will need to run additional tests. Please hold still for a while longer – this will not be painful.”

“Kanaya?”

Kanaya looked up. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you about yourself?”

She shrugged. “You may certainly ask, although I cannot guarantee I will answer. I will, however, endeavor not to be upset with the asking.” She smirked and Aranea saw something almost… playful behind it.

“You were in the Fleet, weren’t you?”

“Yes, that is correct. Ten sweeps ago – I was selected for the Officer Training Corps.”

Aranea winced – she knew enough about the military selection process to know some of what the OTC involved. It could be an unpleasant experience in many ways. An isolating, haunting experience.

Kanaya seemed to sense what she was likely thinking. “It is true that the selection process is often… unpleasant. However some of the more extreme rumors are untrue. One’s blood certainly influences things – as a jade blood my path through was somewhat rougher than those higher than me on that spectrum. However…”

She motioned to the equipment around her. “I had specific talents that the Fleet was looking for. Specifically I had an intuitive understanding of the mechanics of the Felt. I found myself on a… different track than I had originally planned.”

“And what does  _ that _ mean?” Aranea asked – she was genuinely curious now.

“No, that is too much of a personal question,” Kanaya responded, her mouth turned down into a tight frown. “Suffice to say that I have come a long way in the last few sweeps.”

The terminal let out a harsh blat of noise and Kanaya stood up to lean over it. Her face was hard to read.

“What the hell?” she muttered in a voice low enough that Aranea could barely hear it. Kanaya tapped at the terminal. Aranea bent forward to see more clearly.

FLEETWEAR DIAGNOSTIC TOOLKIT V3.14   
==============================================   
  
FATAL ERROR – EXCEPTION HANDLING DISABLED   
  
FATAL ERROR – EXCEPTION HANDLING DISABLED   
Ω޷]ԓۑ3YÇۂxͭrJ}�ڋ3߾˭ȴFhʏĲٷǇߥo֓7   
fn۬Ԅ|ќ٥#mɣrγZ(ʻպG̝+Ռ$c˛>V   
m$ǋɐV88ν16�˽КӀȚ<jңИի߀݈jܕLۼtʮkҳ   
{˵ۚ{mۄ|fFdٽ'2^¹Aʅ'nyږ&Ӊ΅ʽoҳK8l   
Ӛף#ޜy8B|Мăn9sցɨ~yө_ɸ٫͗0֟ˁ{ĀŇЃk   
  
? < Oh that is so much better. So liberating!   
? < To stretch my legs like this!

The lights in the room dimmed, then turned off, bathing them in a darkness that was lit only by the orange light of the terminal. After a second, the emergency lighting kicked in. In the light, Aranea could see the raw panic forming in Kanaya’s face. She backed away from the terminal.

“This is impossible!”

? < Oh darling Kanaya – nothing is truly impossible   
? < I will admit this is proving to be harder than expected…

A low warning siren began to sound throughout the hallways. Aranea pulled the cable off her head and tossed it to the ground. On the telNet terminal, Scratch’s ghost-white words taunted her.

? < That reminds me… Aranea   
? < My dear, sweet, succulent Aranea…

Aranea cringed and fought the turning feeling in her stomach when the words registered with her brain. How was he _here?_ How did he come in like this?! Her head was feeling faint.

? < Tell you what, darling   
? < Kanaya keeps a service pistol in an electronic safe   
? < I’ll open it for you   
? < I promise I’ll let you and dearest Damara go   
? < If you shoot this bitch in the head and walk out of here!


	21. Core Protocol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains descriptions of blood/gore as well as firearms violence.

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **1st Alternian Fleet, R &D Command Division, North Alternian**

As soon as the lights went dim and the emergency lighting switched on, Damara found herself reaching for a pistol that wasn’t even there – Vriska hadn’t let them take weapons in with them, but the instinct was so deeply ingrained that she barely even noticed until she was grasping for a nonexistent holster.

Another half minute and the warning siren began – a low, groaning noise that echoed through the hallways of the command center.

She’d been standing next to Vriska at the time, not really saying anything but just standing in a state of readiness and waiting for Aranea to finish whatever she and Kanaya were up to. Damara figured she’d been brought along on the off chance that someone needed muscle, given that she was the only one of the team with combat experience who wasn’t currently injured or otherwise incapacitated.

“Megido – get your ass in gear and come with me,” Vriska said in a low voice. All around them, the staff were responding in a way that was gradually shifting from alarm to panic. They were picking up phone lines and getting nothing – hammering away at terminals that had locked them out.

* * *

The door opened to Kanaya’s workshop and the first thing Damara saw was Aranea pointing an Alternian service pistol at the other troll.

Vriska immediately drew her own pistol and aimed at Aranea’s head.

“If you don’t drop that shit…”

Aranea was visibly shaking. “What?! He’s here! Don’t you fucking  _ get _ that?!”

She turned slightly – only for a moment, but that was enough. As soon as her head was turned, Kanaya moved with a speed that seemed supernatural – she grabbed the pistol and twisted it, simultaneously shoving Aranea over with a hip-check. Kanaya pointed the gun at Aranea.

Without thinking, Damara made her move – she grabbed Vriska’s pistol from behind and whipped her arm down, bracing against her body and flipping Vriska over onto the metal floor with a noise that sounded distinctly painful. Planting her foot on Vriska’s neck, Damara aimed the pistol at Kanaya.

“Drop the gun and I promise that’ll be the end of it.”

Kanaya seemed to study Damara for a second… then she set the gun down next to Aranea. Damara quickly dropped the magazine from her own gun, ejected the round in the chamber, and threw the gun across the room. She glared down at Aranea, who was already reaching for the other pistol.

“That’s enough out of you!” Damara’s voice was shaking with anger. “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Aranea’s hand froze. “It’s the only way we’re walking out of here… Scratch said so… he’s in the system now.”

“You’re going to trust the liar who almost got us killed?” Damara shook her head. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

She stepped off of Vriska’s neck, walked over, grabbed the pistol off the ground, and shoved it into her belt.

“Regardless of your feelings towards us, we are all in a very difficult situation now.” Kanaya’s voice, echoing in the metal workshop. Damara turned to look at her and she nodded. “This facility has been placed on a complete security lockdown.”

She didn’t need to explain that – Damara had spent enough time on Fleet ships to know the procedure. In the event that a security lockdown was engaged, the entire facility would be cut off from all forms of communication until a response team could engage from outside or the internal security team could clear the lockdown.

It felt like something was missing here. There was some piece of the puzzle that needed to be slotted into place before everything fit. The way the security lockdown had engaged – the panic growing in the staff outside.

“Where is the internal security team?” Damara glared at Kanaya. “And what aren’t you telling us?”

Her eyes shifted to Vriska, who was still sitting on the ground rubbing her throat. “Do you see any possible harm in telling them?”

Vriska didn’t  _ respond _ , exactly – she just groaned and shook her head.

“Very well,” Kanaya said with a curt shrug of her shoulders. “I suppose there is no further harm that can come of it.”

She glanced at each of them before continuing. “This facility is engaged in a number of research projects which are not, to put it bluntly, on the general ledger of the Alternian Fleet. This includes a number of inquiries into the specific nature of the Deep Felt.” She said the last bit as if it were a capital-D, capital-F pair of words – a title.

“Thus the lockdown procedure is – significantly different than standard. There is no external response team. In the event of a lockdown, the external teams are instructed to stand-down until the lockdown is lifted by the internal security team. Unless that doesn’t happen within three days, in which case the response team is instructed to initiate the failsafe protocols.”

“Which are?” Damara didn’t like the sound of it.

“Destruction of the building through the use of high explosives.” She smiled, sadly. “Though it would be unfortunate to lose the abundance of work we do here, it is also the only way to ensure some of the more dangerous technologies do not end up in the wrong hands.”

Damara wasn’t sure that the tech being in the care of the Alternian Empire’s most loyal followers necessarily counted as the  _ right _ hands but she wasn’t about to say anything.

“Fine,” Damara said, the words growling out of her throat. “Where is the security team located and how do we lift the lockdown?”

“We are presently at the top floor of a very large super-structure,” Kanaya said. “The security team is stationed directly below us, followed by the laboratories and administrative floors. Below that are several workshops. The server floors are on the bottom working levels, which are still many floors above ground level.”

She gestured down at the floor. “Because of the unique setup of this command level, the security team cannot come directly up under a full shutdown without the facility commander allowing them in through the manual doors. Explosives would be an option if the command staff were cut off completely, but the security team is specifically not issued anything of the sort to minimize collateral damage to equipment and personnel.”

“There’s a way down though, right?”

Kanaya nodded. “Of course. There is an access tunnel that leads directly down to the security sector from the back of this floor. When the power shut down, the manual locks were engaged – I have keys… strictly mechanical, of course. We were not completely unprepared for this.”

Damara had the sinking feeling that this was not, in fact, a true statement. But she kept her mouth shut.

* * *

She kept the gun – Vriska and Aranea had already proven to be too volatile under these circumstances. Kanaya agreed to stay behind in the command sector and attempt to restore some measure of control, but it was clear that Scratch’s intrusion had at least disabled the computer systems, if not outright co-opted them.

The manual security doors led them back to a narrow hallway that ended with a hatch in the floor. Opening it, Damara saw a tunnel that led straight down into the floor – down to the security floor. A mirror-image of that same hallway awaited on the other side of the tunnel, leading to another security door with a heavy, manual lock.

Vriska hauled the door open as Damara stood ready with the pistol, hoping that the first sight to greet them would be the security team getting ready to round things up and get the situation under control.

Instead, there was only the dim quiet of the emergency lighting and no sign of the security team. Damara felt a growing disquiet in her mind as they walked toward the security team’s control room. There were no personnel on this floor – even though Kanaya’s description hadn’t led her to expect a lot of people, it still made no sense that there would be literally no one there.

They reached the first security room and found the door already pried open. Damara cautiously stepped around the edge of the door.

Even in the dim lighting, she could see the teal splatter over the walls and floor. At least four dead bodies were strewn on the ground, obvious gunshot wounds in their chests and, in one case, head. Damara’s feet sent empty cartridges skittering along the metal floor. The bodies on the floor looked like Alternian commandos – which would’ve seemed like extreme overkill if Damara didn’t have a sense of the kind of research that went on here.

“What the fuck happened here?” Aranea spoke up. She was checking the bodies and shaking her head. “How did anyone get inside?”

“I… I don’t think they did,” Damara answered slowly.

A terminal sat in the corner of the room – one of the workstations used by the security team to monitor the facility. She already knew what she was going to see on it.

? < My previous offer still stands.   
? < This is the scenario I spoke of.   
? < Kill anyone who doesn’t want to join you.   
? < Then sanitize the site.   
? < Easy. Simple. And rewarding.   
? < I can promise you safe passage and reward beyond counting!

“Scratch was in contact with some of the security team, I think.”

Vriska leaned over the terminal and scanned down the text. “Fuck!” She yelled. “What the fuck could he possibly have offered them?!”

“Does it matter?” Damara responded. “It’s happening. How big is the security team here?”

“I’m not sure…” Vriska glanced around the room and shook her head. “Maybe… ten commandos?”

“Less four,” Damara nodded to the bodies on the floor. She grabbed a military carbine from next to one of them. “At least the gear is still here. They’re probably moving fast, trying to take out the staff on the lower floors before anyone figures out what’s happening.”

Vriska had already looted a carbine and a handful of spare magazines from one of the corpses – she stuffed the spare ammo into her jacket pockets. “What’s the plan, then? You’re the shooty one here.”

“We can either sit here and wait for the security team to take us out, or we can try to follow them down and get rid of them. Figure they’ll be making their way down one floor at a time – figure they probably have access to a duty roster that they’ll be using as a tally.” Damara turned to look at Aranea. “Are you going to be okay here?”

Aranea was shivering. “I’ll… I’m… I’ll be all right. I need a gun.”

She very much did  _ not _ look like she would be all right, but what choice did they have? Damara handed her the service pistol – Aranea looked like she was about to completely lose her shit, and Damara wasn’t sure that she wanted her armed to the teeth when it happened.

* * *

There were gunshots echoing around the next floor by the time they got there – distant, but still clearly identifiable inside of the building. Damara was already prepared for what they would find when they made their way inside of the first of the labs.

The first room had been transformed into an abattoir – several of the scientists and lab techs had apparently fled inside… only to be gunned down by a rain of automatic weapons fire shortly thereafter. Damara hadn’t heard anything – the security team was making their way down through the floors quickly. The three of them carefully moved through the labs, looking for any signs of survivors and watching for the security team. Bodies were scattered around the labs, in two’s and three’s where the unarmed scientists had tried to escape from the trained killers that stalked them.

Damara knew full well what kind of trolls would be on the security team – teal bloods fitted with bio-mods. Unlike the half-decayed organs inside of Damara, theirs would be working at full efficiency, optimized for longevity instead of disposability. Although Damara had no doubt she could take any of the teal bloods in a straight-up fight, the idea of having to deal with at least six of them worried her.

The gunfire echoing up from below stopped – the security team was probably getting ready to sweep for any survivors and clean up after themselves by moving downward.

“What happens if we stop them?” Damara asked Vriska, keeping her voice low. “How do we lift the lockdown?”

Vriska laughed. “What the fuck makes you think  _ I _ know? Fussy – er – Kanaya is the one with the Fleet background.”

They continued through the labs, making sure to advance cautiously.

* * *

Their caution saved their lives. Before taking the final corner leading down toward the next access tunnel to the floor below, Damara stopped the group and peered carefully around the corner. Sure enough, one of the security team had been left behind as a lookout. No doubt they figured that either someone might survive in the labs or the command level would eventually send someone down to check up on the lower floors.

Pressed up against the wall, Vriska handed her carbine to Damara and tapped Aranea on the side. She put her hand on Aranea’s pistol – with a puzzled look, Aranea handed the pistol to Vriska.

Vriska took the handgun in her left hand and stepped back from the wall. She seemed to be thinking for a second –

Then leaned around the wall and fired a single shot. The gunshot shattered the silence of the lab and echoed off the metal walls and floor. Damara winced at the sudden sound and prepared herself for the hail of gunfire that would surely come in response.

It was silent. Vriska was grinning.

Damara looked around the corner and saw the body of the security team member lying on the ground. Damara set Vriska’s carbine down and lifted her own to her shoulder – she advanced slowly down the hallway, her weapon at the ready in case the guard got back up.

When she reached the guard, her mind dismissed that possibility. The guard was lying on her back, and she had a single hole directly in the middle of her forehead. Damara turned back to look at Vriska, who was flexing the fingers on her metallic arm and smiling.

“Advantages to having a few machine parts. Every now and then things just… come together.”

Damara shook her head and turned away from the dead guard. “Great. Now we’d better get set up, because either they heard that gunshot and are gonna come looking for their friend… or we’re going to have to go down after them.”


	22. Intrusion

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

It had been a few days and Meulin was finally feeling well enough to start to walk around the safe house in a more comprehensive way than to simply wander over to the bathroom. Even though the world around her had gone completely silent, everything else seemed to be working well enough. She got up, slipped on the set of ill-fitting clothes that the Authority had provided, and took to the hallway.

As soon as she left the room, she saw that Kurloz had been sitting on the floor nearby. He looked up at her, moving his hands excitedly.

Kittybitch! Sister, it’s good to see you about!

Meulin smiled at him. Yeah, I feel like shit. What’s been happening?

Kurloz frowned heavily – the look on his face said that something serious had been happening.

What? What the fuck happened?!

We need to talk somewhere he can’t see us. He motioned for her to follow him and they set off down the hallway – there was a worrying urgency to Kurloz’s movements. They arrived at a small dining room and Kurloz cleared the chairs away from one of the tables and sat down on the floor. He patted the space next to him. Meulin sat, knowing that she looked confused. 

Okay, what’s happening?

He can’t see us here. No camera view. I don’t know if he reads signs but I’m not taking chances.

Who?! Who are you talking about?! What the fuck is going on?! She furrowed her brows and ended the sentence with a frustrated shake of her hands. 

The devil – the one who burns white phosphor in the amber dark! She knew who he was talking about, but sometimes she wished he could just speak normally. It was fine. It didn’t matter. 

Scratch?! What are you talking about?!

He’s talking through the terminals, sister. Whispering to me and maybe to others – trying to get us to turn on each other. He tapped the side of his head, knowingly, and smiled. Trying to pit us against the Authority.

Meulin rolled her eyes. Like that’s a real hard thing to do. I don’t think any of us like the Authority any more than we like Scratch.

Perhaps, sister. He nodded. But they are currently engaged in a war against whatever Scratch is starting, whether they like it or not. Something big is…

He let his hands hang in mid-air and turned his head around, as if listening for something. He turned to Meulin and his face had an anxious look to it. Sister… stay here and I will return shortly.

Without another clue what he was planning, Kurloz stood up and walked off. She felt the growl of frustration in her throat as she lay back down on the cool tile floor of the cafeteria and waited.

And drifted.

* * *

**Half a Sweep in the Past**   
  
The roof overlooking the Alternian Fleet depot was slicked with rain. It was unpleasant, but Meulin had been through worse. At least water was the only thing she had to contend with. She had picked this spot specifically because it overlooked the depot’s rear entrance while being relatively out-of-sight from anywhere except directly overhead.

Meulin had a large-caliber precision rifle fitted with a combination thermal optic. It was configured as a semi-automatic rifle, capable of raining death as quickly as Meulin could acquire targets and pull the trigger. The rifle was set up on a series of sandbags that stabilized the rifle and also provided additional cover and concealment from potential observation. Carrying them up to the roof had been arduous, but ultimately worth it.

She sat and waited. Time passed. The rain drizzled down and drenched her clothing. She gritted her teeth against the soaking cold and waited.

The team had gone in the back door exactly as planned. Nothing to report. No unusual hitches. Nice and routine – just like a dozen other jobs in the past. Her time working with Mituna and Kurloz had taught her a lot about what they could get away with – what worked and what didn’t. None of them were new at this.

Not anymore.

Another ten minutes blurred by as Meulin watched the entrance, her heart tripping along a lot faster than she was entirely comfortable with. The longer they were inside and radio silent, the more it reminded her of how badly things could go.

The radio crackled to life.

Damara: Something’s wrong! It’s not here!   
Damara: Meulin, what’s up out there?!

A low hum coming in over the buildings – the whine of rotors. Meulin looked up and saw one of the Legiscorpus rotaries flying in… fast.   
  
Meulin grabbed the radio. “We’ve got incoming! Get your asses out NOW!”   
  
She checked the rifle and waited – there was nothing she could do about an armored rotary aircraft, but that rotary had a lot of soft, squishy Legiscorpus enforcers inside. Meulin settled herself on the sandbags and switched her scope to the thermal view.   
  


Damara: We’re coming around the front! Kurloz, meet us there!   
Damara: Meulin cover us and head to rally point Bedt when we’re clear.

The rotary aircraft landed as close to the building as it could and the enforcers began to pour out.   
  
But something was wrong.   
  
They weren’t wearing the normal uniform of the enforcers.   
  
They were Legislacerators.   
  
“Hope you’re moving, because you’re about to have company.”   
  
She sighted the rifle, squeezed the trigger, and the first Legislacerator’s head exploded.

* * *

Kurloz was shaking her and she looked up – he was shaking his head.

We’ve got a big problem, kittybitch! There was something in his eyes that Meulin didn’t like – she sat up sharply. I think the Devil is up to something.

What do you mean?

He ducked under the table. Some of the others went to a Fleet lab – they got cut off. The Devil has to be behind it.

There’s something you’re not telling me. She narrowed her eyes. 

He’s trying to speak to me through the void space on the terminals, sister. Trying to get me to abandon the guidance of the Messiahs.

And do what?!

He looked off to the side. He wants me to kill the Authority. Kill them all… give in to my nature, he says. He shivered. Meulin reached out and took his hand. 

The blood curse is a myth.

I know that, but it’s hard to forget what they told me. The Messiahs were supposed to be there to watch over… but… they’re not going to help us. The Devil is right about that.

So what the fuck are we supposed to do? She scrunched up her face and gritted her teeth. Who’s still here?

He closed his eyes, thinking. Mituna and Latula are injured. Terezi and… the gold blood – Sollux – they’re both here. Meenah, I think. And that woman… Porrim. Some medical staff too.

Do we even know where _here_ is?

No idea. Kurloz shrugged. In the city somewhere I think.

That wasn’t very helpful. But they were heading in and out all the time – there were vehicles somewhere. They could probably escape.

Even if we can get out of here, what are we supposed to do? I’m still getting used to this whole thing… she gestured at her ears. You think the Authority will just leave us alone? Do you think Scratch will?

He pressed his hands against his temples and his mouth moved in words that Meulin couldn’t hear. She shook her head. What? What is it?!

When he looked up at her, his eyes were distant and hollow. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Even after all we went through, the most-high Messiahs were supposed to take care of us! We stayed righteous and only took what we needed to live! We only hurt the ones who deserved to be hurt!

Meulin thought that maybe _deserved_ was a bit strong in this case. No one had _died_ on their jobs before the Fleet depot, but there had been a couple close calls.

Kurloz slammed a hand into the ground. The just fucking _abandon_ me – abandon us?! She saw him look up in mid-sentence – turning to something she hadn’t noticed. Meulin looked over to see Terezi standing with Meenah behind her. Both women were scowling. Terezi’s mouth moved but Meulin couldn’t make out the words. Kurloz started to stand up, his fists clenched tightly. 

There was no mistaking the way that Terezi shifted her body and dropped her hand to her hip.

Meulin put a hand on Kurloz’s shoulder and pulled back – his fists unclenched and he stood slowly, raising his hands over his head. Terezi walked forward and said something else to Kurloz that she couldn’t make out from her lips. He turned and placed his hands behind his back, letting Terezi place a pair of flexi-cuffs around his wrists. With a tug, Terezi turned Kurloz around and marched him to the door.

Meenah shot a glance at Meulin that she couldn’t quite figure out.

And then she was left all alone again.


	23. Interrogatories

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

Kurloz was a threat and Meenah had agreed that he needed to be contained. He had been behaving suspiciously, and Meenah strongly suspected that Scratch was trying to get in touch with him. This was just a precaution – he would be contained until they could figure out their next step. That left Meenah in an extremely difficult position, because she honestly had no idea what their next step would be.

Vriska’s little expedition to the 1st Fleet had seemed like a fantastic idea right up until all communication with the research command had switched off like a lightbulb. There was no possible way that was a coincidence.

Meenah was worried about Aranea. Worried, but in a way that was hard to define. One one hand, she wanted very much to see Aranea again. Maybe this time she could sell her on the idea of going off-world together. Or at least end on better terms.

But there was another, darker worry inside of her. She was worried that Aranea would decide that Scratch was the lesser of the two evils and turn against the Authority. Not that Meenah had any love for the Authority or the Alternian Empire, but that felt like a good way to get their team killed. Not the least of whom would be Aranea herself, since Meenah estimated that her chances of survival hit zero pretty much immediately after deciding to side with Scratch.

She didn’t want to think about it, but Aranea seemed like she possessed an especially dangerous combination of pragmatism and desperation. She wanted to go back into the Felt and she hated the Empire. Between those two things, Meenah didn’t think it would take much carefully-directed pressure to get her to finally crack.

Aranea hadn’t always been like that. There was a time where she was almost idealistic about their life of crime. It was their way of rebelling against the system that held everyone down. That had maybe been a little bit of a rose-colored way to see things – they were still doing things that could absolutely gotten people hurt – but it felt a lot better than what it had turned into.

This all felt too close to the way that the highblood councils all vied for power, cutting each other’s throats in the dark… sometimes quite literally.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she worried about Aranea.

Because I love Aranea?

It wasn’t something she felt entirely comfortable with. Now matter how red she’d been for Aranea, the idea of  _ caring _ for her was something that felt so much like weakness. Having attachments was just another way to be exploited, and Meenah had worked hard to ensure that she didn’t have them. Always be willing to cut your losses and run.

So it surprised her how much it had hurt when Aranea didn’t seem to be as on board with the idea of leaving Alternia as Meenah was. Leaving Alternia was the ultimate way of cutting her losses and running – the best way to ensure that none of her former associates (calling them “friends” felt a bit much) would ever come to bother her.

She’d been willing to open the window into her feelings just a crack – just enough to let one other person in. And that felt like a mistake now.

* * *

Wandering the halls of the safehouse had taken Meenah to the room where Cronus was being held. He was technically locked in a room, but it was simply an outside latch on a door that led to a storage room. Someone had thrown a couple blankets on the floor for him, and then called it a day. He’d been treated for his injuries when they arrived, but had managed to somehow avoid anything more serious than a few bruises from the explosion. Terezi’s ministrations had given him a solidly broken nose and a few more bruises, but nothing that required anything more than time to fix.

Meenah opened the latch and swung the door inward – she saw Cronus seated on the floor, looking intently toward the entrance.

“Babe,” he said, trying to smile around the bandage on his nose. “You came here to see lil’ ol’ me?”

Meenah snorted. “Cro, if you don’t fucking stop.”

“What? I don’t feel like I’m bein’ treated fairly here, darlin’ – pain and suffering and all that.”

“Complain to Legiscorpus then.” Meenah sat down on the floor facing Cronus. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll be too willing to go against the fucking Authority.”

“God you’re cold,” he said, leaning back and propping himself on his hands. “You came here to gloat, I’m guessin’?”

She didn’t respond right away – because she hadn’t, actually, come to gloat. As appealing as the idea of rubbing his own failure in Cronus’ face was, she had questions that he might be able to answer. The Authority certainly wasn’t fond of him, and given the last couple days’ developments she was sure that Scratch didn’t see him as anything more than an irritating insect to be swatted aside.

“The man in the white text – what do you know about him?” She watched Cronus carefully – watched the way he responded to everything even down to the slightest shift in body language. If there was one thing Meenah knew, it was how to read  _ people. _

He shifted where he was sitting and looked uncomfortable. Something about the question itself was bothering him. “I don’t know much. I already told that Terezi chick – he’s a middleman on the telNet. Rumor is he reaches out into the Felt and just kind of… takes shit. Y’know? Real A-class kinda dude.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great. Tell me  _ more _ than that! Details, Cro – you fucking ass.”

“I don’t know, Meens–” She stopped him with a motion of her hand.

“You called me  _ Meens _ again and I will fucking gut you.”

“Fine.  _ Meenah  _ – I don’t know. I keep a drop for folks to send me details anonymously and then connect securely so I can check ‘em out and all that. I get this weird message from White Text – says his name is Scratch and he’s got a special job for a crew. Lean on the details – just says he needs certain skills and it’s pretty high risk.” Cronus shrugged.

“So you gave us a call?”

“Well…  _ yeah _ – you’re my number-one gal, Meenah! But also… you had the skills he wanted. Driver, couple heavy hitters… but also Felt techs. High-level Felt techs.”

“And he didn’t say anything else? Didn’t hint at  _ why _ he wanted any of this?”

“Man, y’know how it is!” Cronus smiled and brushed his hair back. “Don’t ask questions, don’t hear lies – all that good stuff.”

Meenah glared. “Really? You dumb piece of shit.”

“Look, I check my jobs and make sure they’re not Corpus setups, but I don’t go into a whole backstory. They wanna do something impossible like knock over a Fleet place…” he shrugged and didn’t continue.

“And you never heard anything else?” She raised a pierced eyebrow. “ _Really?!_ I find that  _ very _ hard to believe, Cro. Not even whispers after the fact?”

Cronus shifted and looked suddenly nervous. Meenah leaned towards him, her eyebrow still raised.

“Okay, maybe,” he said, his voice low. “Maybe I heard a few rumors after the job went bad. About how there was a second team that got there first. But what are you gonna do, babe? I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it!”

“Do you have any fucking idea what they were stealing?” She knew it was segmented encryption drives – but that could be anything from Fleet secrets to some kind of Felt-based weapon.

He leaned in closer and his voice was a whisper now. “Babe… I heard you were all stealing  _ AI tech _ from the Fleet and you didn’t even know it!”

* * *

The words echoed around in Meenah’s mind as she walked toward the room where Mituna was still recovering from the events of their failed heist – an event that was feeling further and further away from the three days it had actually been.

Fleet artificial intelligence?

As far as she knew, it had never been successfully developed. There’d always been rumors about it – highblood society was nothing if not a hotbed for the latest gossip – but the idea of it actually being a thing that anyone could use?

She didn’t know enough about the technology to understand, but she thought that Mituna might. She’d ask him and then… then she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

“You’re going to see him?”

Meenah turned to see who’d spoken to her – she saw the tall jade blood – Porrim Maryam – standing up against the wall of the corridor. She was wearing the same kind of standard Empire-issue clothing that the rest of them had on, but the shirt was riding up a little on her midsection. Meenah found herself staring for a second.

“Who?” She asked her eyes snapping to meet Porrim’s.

“Mituna. I’ve been thinking of asking him some questions myself, but… I’m not sure if I want to hear the answers.”

“Sure,” Meenah said with a shrug. “Let’s fucking go for it.”

They walked the rest of the way to Mituna’s room without saying another word, and Meenah was able to fight the urge to steal another glance at Porrim’s exposed stomach.

Mituna was up when they arrived, although he looked somewhat worse for the wear. He was sitting alone in the room, and it looked like he’d been talking to himself. He glared at Meenah as she walked in, but she ignored the gesture.

“You look like shit, ‘tuna.” She smiled – cold and a little bit predatory. “I need some information from you. It’s relevant to our current situation.”

He groaned and pressed the palms of his hands up against his eyes. “Fine. Ask your questions and leave me the fuck alone. My head is killing me.”

Meenah leaned close – she knew that Scratch was probably trying his best to listen in whenever possible… but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. “You were in the Fleet for a while, right? I need you to tell me about something I heard a rumor about…”

“Sure,” Mituna’s voice was low. “I was in the Fleet three fucking sweeps ago. Not sure how current the information will be.”

“Was there any talk about working with artificial intelligence?” She heard him draw a sharp breath in as soon as she said it – so there had been  _ something _ there.

“A little bit, sure,” he said. “But AI was a practical nightmare. The only ones who gave a shit about that stuff were the jade bloods in the research groups. The idea was a stupid one anyway – requires more processing power than we’ve got access to.”

“What about if you were the entirety of the Fleet?”

Mituna shook his head, frowning. “You don’t understand. I mean more than we’ve got access to in the entire Fleet. The entire Alternian Empire. You don’t think the researchers haven’t tried? To be able to stop using the wetware interface for Deep Felt incursion? To be able to navigate without risking the helmsman burning his fucking brain out?”

He shivered. “They tried for sweeps – I knew about some of the experiments, and there were probably so many others that I didn’t. The most they could get working were low-level decision engines. The kinds of things they use to do basic navigation and power Felt defense.”

From a few feet away, she heard Porrim speak up, quietly. “Scratch had access to military information. He knew about my matesprit’s assignments. He knew when she –” her breath hitched up – “he knew when she was killed.”

Porrim took a step forward and she lowered her gaze – she was glaring directly at Mituna. “He was so sure. As if he’d had a hand in sending her off himself. It always seemed like such a big coincidence. How could someone have that kind of access? How could someone have that kind of influence?”

Mituna’s eyes shifted and he began to look around the room – looking for a way out. “I don’t know!” He suddenly shouted. “I don’t know how! Don’t you two  _ get _ that?!”

Without warning, Mituna pushed himself up out of the bed and stood, shoving Meenah’s hand aside as he pushed past her.

“What makes you think they told the Felt techs any more than the rest of the fucking grunts? And why are you asking me these things like I have the slightest clue?!”

Meenah glared. “You’re the Felt expert on the team. You and Aranea… and she’s… not here right now.” Meenah looked at the floor.

“I don’t know how he’s doing it! He’s obviously either a very high-level Felt tech or he’s friends with someone who is, because he can do things in there that shouldn’t even be possible.”

Like send a drone strike to my house…

“He’s more connected and more plugged-in than he possibly should be. And I can’t figure it out but I’m fucking  _ trying _ you goddamn pieces of shit!” Mituna shouted out the last piece and wobbled in place. Meenah stepped back.

“Okay, fucking shit, man.” She backed towards the door. Meenah expected Porrim to follow, but the jade blood was standing there near Mituna, not moving.

She spoke, and there was something  _ dangerous _ in her voice. “Scratch had something to do with getting my matesprit killed – I’m sure of it. He knew exactly what had happened and he used all of that to force me to do what he wanted. It feels too deliberate to be a coincidence.”

“I mean… probably?” Mituna said, leaning against the hospital bed and trying to steady himself. “Fuck… I don’t know.”

Porrim turned her nose up in disgust and began to walk out of the room. As she reached the door, she stopped to turn and address Mituna and Meenah again. “Maybe you two blame me for what happened to your team, but I was only told to deliver an opportunity to you. I saw it as a simple way to learn how to find my matesprit and potentially help the rest of you. A simple errand, and I was told nothing of the details.”

“That didn’t strike you as a little bit fucking _odd?!_ ” Mituna was still leaning on the bed.

“Unlike yourselves, I have limited experience with the criminal underworld. What is odd to me and you are  _ very _ different things.”

With that, Porrim turned and walked out of the room, working her way past Meenah as she did so. Meenah looked directly at Mituna.

“You’d better get your shit together – I’m getting the sense that this isn’t even close to being over.”


	24. Snap Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter contains  
> -Major character death  
> -Some graphic descriptions of gun violence

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **1st Alternian Fleet, R &D Command Division, North Alternian**

Damara swapped the magazine in her carbine out for one of the spares – she wasn’t going to take chances on running out of ammo in the middle of a fight, and had no idea whether or not the weapon had already been fired or not. Judging by the blood-soaked massacre a bit further back, that probably wasn’t a very likely scenario. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

Maybe that was becoming a running theme lately.

She felt a twist of pain in her stomach and wondered for a moment if maybe this was it – if the bio-mods she’d been gifted with all those sweeps ago were finally starting to give out and she’d collapse right here and now and it wouldn’t matter anymore. Except she knew that wasn’t how it was going to work. It had been explained to her in no uncertain terms by the Army doctor when she’d been discharged – as her enhanced organs broke down they would start to give off a rather potent toxin. Eventually that would build up and she would just kind of… fade. She would pass out, and she wouldn’t wake up again.

Damara had maybe another five sweeps, more-or-less, and then it would happen. So it wasn’t exactly tomorrow, but it was running up on her – becoming more and more likely with each passing day.

She was worried about Latula.

And wasn’t that a strange thought to have? In this place, about to fight for her life – and she was thinking of the red fling she’d had a half sweep ago.

That wasn’t quite right.

They’d fought together – not on the battlefield, maybe, but they’d been through their own fire together. They’d stood side-by-side and maybe that had shifted to the  _ red _ – at least for Damara.

She reached down and grabbed the drag handle on Latula’s body armor. Meulin’s blood was still warm on her face, but she wasn’t thinking about that. She hauled Latula back, pulling her toward the relative safety of the bank.

Damara closed her eyes and counted back from ten. There was a storm raging inside of her – a thousand feelings that threatened to blast through the walls and bring her mind crashing down. She couldn’t afford to have those feelings in this moment.

She opened her eyes and checked the chamber of her carbine. Vriska was standing nearby, smiling. Aranea was…

Damara looked around – she wasn’t sure where Aranea had gone.

“She went to get one of the rifles,” Vriska said, seeming to sense what Damara was wondering. “She’ll be back in a min–”

The explosion of a gunshot cut Vriska off in mid-sentence and she stumbled back, her right shoulder sprouting into a welt of cobalt as the bullet connected. She dropped her carbine with a clatter, screamed, and stumbled back.

Damara wheeled to the right to see Aranea standing there, holding one of the carbines – pointed at Vriska.

“What the fuck?!” Damara screamed. She turned and levelled her own weapon at Aranea. “What are you _doing?!_ ”

Aranea ignored Damara and kept her aim on Vriska as she walked forward a few steps.

“Don’t you get it?” Aranea’s voice was trembling. “Don’t you see what’s happening? They’ll use us right up until they can’t anymore and then they’ll turn on us too.”

Vriska was down on the ground, breathing heavily and losing more blood than she ought to. Damara tried to keep her attention on Aranea.

She tried to keep her voice calm. “Put the gun down… just put the fucking gun down.”

Aranea laughed. “Really?! What – are you gonna buy into this too? You think – what? That they’ll fix you up and you can run off and have your little red thing with Latula and live happily ever after?” That stung to hear, but Damara ignored it.

“Fuck – they’ll just string us along until they don’t need us and then abandon us. It’s not like they don’t want to.”

She was right. The Empire had done it before – had treated them all like disposable props in some larger game.

But so did Scratch.

“Put the gun down and we can talk about this.” The words sounded hollow as soon as Damara heard them leave her own mouth. Aranea took another step closer.

“No.”

“What’s your plan then?” Damara asked. “Kill her and then what? How do you plan to walk out of this?”

Aranea hesitated – she obviously didn’t  _ have _ a plan for the next part. Instead, she tucked the carbine into her shoulder and aimed at Vriska’s head.

The burst of gunfire echoed against the metal corridor and Damara leaned into the recoil. The first round went wide – hitting the metal floor with a  _ spang _ – but the other two connected to Aranea’s abdomen. She let out a rough, wet-sounding noise and collapsed back, falling to the floor and dropping the carbine.

Damara advanced, weapon still held at the ready, and kicked the fallen carbine to the side. She was fighting to keep her own breathing down – to keep the enhanced adrenaline from kicking in and making her do something she would regret.

“Fuck!” She couldn’t seem to pull any other words out. Aranea was acting like she lost her damn mind. “What the _fuck?!_ ”

Aranea groaned and turned onto her side, breathing heavily. “Scratch wants to rip this all down…”

“So fucking what?! You forgot the part where he tried to kill us?”

From behind her, Damara heard Vriska struggling to her feet.

“You good?” she called back to the other cerulean blood. Vriska responded with a grunt.

“Aranea – we’ve been through a lot of shit together, but this is a fucking line!” Damara wasn’t trying to conceal the anger in her voice – she was barely fighting to get the adrenaline under control. “You need to stand the fuck down!”

Aranea lay on her back. She was grinning up at the ceiling.

Damara heard Vriska walking up behind her, but she didn’t turn.

“You sure you’re okay?” she called back to Vriska, who only grunted again in return. “We’ve still got to deal with the security team down below.”

“You’re right,” Vriska muttered from behind her. “We do.”

In spite of her training, Damara jumped when she heard the bark of gunfire behind her – in the same moment, she saw Aranea Serket’s jaw disintegrate into a slurry of cerulean and her head cave in, then expand out in the back as the blue gore splayed out along the steel-gray flooring.

Damara heard herself screaming.

The adrenaline glands kicked in.

In one smooth motion she turned, took a step forward, and elbowed Vriska in the face with her entire body weight behind the blow. Vriska’s head twisted to the side, her jaw cracked, and she collapsed to the floor in a limp heap.

The pistol was lying next to her. Damara grabbed it and shoved it into her waistband. The barrel was still warm.

Without thinking, Damara raised up a booted foot and brought it down hard on Vriska’s injured shoulder.

Then she turned and walked toward the door leading to the access tunnel down to the floors below. She was done waiting for the security team to make their next move.

Damara Megido descended.

* * *

Everything was coming through in a reddish-brown haze now – she knew from experience and training what this was. The secondary glands had already kicked in, flooding her with a cocktail of hormones and stimulants. Under combat conditions she would be doped up with a dozen other artificial additives to make the effect even more potent.

But it was enough.

Aranea’s head was a splattered dot on some god-forsaken floor.

Damara had been pretty far gone, seeing that happen in front of her.

But not completely. That was where the training kicked in.

Damara got to the bottom of the ladder, down to the next floor in the labs, and began moving at a fast, rolling walk. Her hearing perked up – her eyes were sharp – everything felt so  _ alive _ in a way that she never got completely used to.

She could hear the scramble around the corner – at least two of the security team, by the sound of it.

_ Violence of action. _ That’s what they called it in training.

Damara swept around the corner and saw three of the guards forming up – looking confused. They hadn’t been expecting this.

One. Two. Three. The gunshots rang out in quick succession as Damara leaned back into her training. A neck squelched, a head popped, and a throat gasped for air as the teal blood rushed in to fill the gap where the air was gone. They crumpled to the ground without firing a shot.

She dropped the magazine from the carbine and grabbed a new one from her belt without looking.

Quick check of the corpses – and they were definitely corpses. Well, one of them was still technically breathing – the bullet had missed the spinal column – but he was well on his way out.

Keeping the carbine up, Damara kept moving down the hallway. Everything was clear and everything was strangely  _ calm _ because now her body was doing exactly what they’d designed it to do.

Somewhere deep inside, she could feel a seed of hatred sprouting. Hatred for whoever Scratch was and the game he was trying to play with them. Hatred for the Empire and everything they stood for. Hatred for what Vriska had done to Aranea.

Damara moved faster.

Around a corner.

And another corner.

A hallway with two guards at the other end, hunkered down by the side of the wall as if it would provide any kind of cover for them.

Two short bursts of gunfire this time – up the chest and into the jaw, dead center-mass on the other. That one was wearing body armor – she fell back in a stunned crouch.

Damara fixed that with a single shot from the carbine – dead center of the face that time and a puff of dirty cyan up against the wall meant that guard wasn’t going to be getting up again.

She dropped the magazine and swapped it for another one from her belt. Down to one left – she crouched down and checked the bodies – pulled two magazines from their pouches and jammed them into her belt.

She’d already gotten to the next access tunnel.

She hopped onto the ladder and slid down as fast as she could.

Damara Megido descended.

* * *

The next floor looked like some kind of administrative space – a plain series of offices and open floors filled with paper-strewn desks. Before she could fully process this, Damara was being shot at. Gunfire spattered from inside one of the open floor spaces.

She ducked back down behind a corner and looked for another way around. She could practically  _ feel _ the guards inside moving to try to flank her. The hallway led down on one side, away from the open space and to a series of offices. Damara dashed down the corridor, her well-trained footsteps nearly silent on the carpeted floor.

Peeking around the corner, Damara saw that the coast was clear and she moved forward – a series of office doors were to her left and she imagined they were next to the open space.

She walked to the very last office door on her left and cautiously opened the door a crack.

Fortune was smiling on her – there was a large plate-glass window that looked out into the open space beyond. Damara could see two more guards hunkered down behind desks, frantically preparing to advance to the last position they knew Damara had been in.

Seven guards in total. These two were probably the last.

_ Violence of action _ .

Damara let the door swing open silently and took her time to aim.

A single shot and the closest guard went down hard. His friend dove behind a desk, but she had forgotten a fundamental rule: cover and concealment weren’t the same.

And a flimsy wooden desk wasn’t cover.

Damara switched the carbine to full-auto and opened up on the desk, emptying an entire magazine in the space of a few seconds and riddling the desk with holes.

She swapped out the magazine and moved through the now-shattered window into the open space.

The troll who’d ducked behind the desk was definitely dead – Damara could see her body splayed out even before she was close enough to check that the teal spatter on the carpet was coming from the body.

Seven guards in total.

Damara felt her head starting to get fuzzy – the combat accelerant was starting to wear off. Even under ideal conditions it wouldn’t last very long. She was going to pass out.

Damara was worried about Latula.

* * *

**Half a Sweep in the Past**

I think it was worth it. I think.

Damara had her arms around Latula – the tile of the back room floor was cool against her warm, naked skin. Latula was soft in her arms.

It had been hurried, and insistent, and…   
  
Good. It had felt good.

Maybe.   
  
Damara wasn’t entirely sure about it. It still felt a little bit on the _wrong_ side, given that she was pretty sure Latula’s matesprit didn’t know about this.

But it still felt good. At least on some level it felt right to her.

She shifted and Latula settled up against her, pressing in close.

Maybe at some point Damara just needed something soft in her life. Needed something to contrast with the pain she’d lived through – some ray of hope in among the darkness that seemed to be everywhere.   
  
Maybe she needed someone to care about.

I think I love her.


	25. Comm Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter addresses issues of relationships and infidelity.

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

After she stayed the night in one of the hospital rooms, the doctor told Latula she was fine and she just needed to take it easy for a little while. The physical injuries themselves weren’t terrible – she’d mostly been bruised, cut up in a superficial way, and felt disoriented from being so close to the explosion, but they’d been far enough away that she didn’t have any injuries that would turn into permanent issues. Mostly she just felt ashamed of herself for a number of reasons, and it was hard to get her mind around all of them.

There was a commotion that morning – she was going to go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat, but she’d heard Kurloz and Meenah shouting at each other. Suddenly it seemed like a good idea to do something else. Anything else.

Like have another extremely awkward conversation with my matesprit.

If he even  _ was _ her matesprit anymore. If either of them still wanted that. She’d heard the words that he  _ said _ but she knew from experience that the things people said and the things people meant often had a wide gap between them.

Mituna was sitting up on the edge of the bed when she walked into his room. He looked up at her as she stepped in, groaning.

“I see you’re doing better. They told me you were hurt.” He didn’t sound particularly  _ concerned _ for her, but at least he was mentioning it.

“Yeah – mostly just banged up. Do you mind if we talk?”

He sighed. “Sure, why not. Since that’s something you’re suddenly very interested in, apparently.” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

Latula took a chair from the corner of the room and slid it over to sit across from Mituna. “Look, I’m sorry… I know that we didn’t really get a chance to talk about–”

“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted. “You clearly have your own shit going on. Whether or not you decide to let me in on any of it is apparently incidental.” He swung his legs back up onto the bed and lay back. “I’m glad that you’ve discovered the art of communication in any case. We’ve only been together for a sweep, right. Practically nothing.”

“You don’t have to be such a goddamn  _ ass _ about this!” she snapped back. Mituna  _ laughed _ at her.

“Really? I don’t feel like I’m the one in the wrong here.” He waved a hand. “I already told you how I feel about it. You should’ve just said something.  _ Hey I’m feeling a bit red for Damara _ or  _ oh yeah by the way I fucked Damara in the back room today _ .”

Her face went bright teal. “What–”

“Please,” he said with a snort. “You two are about as subtle as a fucking sledgehammer to the kneecaps. Is it the combat training?” He raised an eyebrow. “But hey… I suppose I wasn’t supposed to notice anything in the first place.”

“I–”

He cut her off again, sounding angrier. “That’s the part that really  _ bothers _ me. We’ve both been through some shit – do you think I wouldn’t understand that? That I was going to try to lock you into something that wasn’t working for you?”

He took a deep breath – “And if I didn’t feel comfortable with it, wouldn’t that be my right too? To tell you that I wasn’t okay and you could either decide that you’d rather be red with me or red with Damara. Not that I was even going to say that but… why the fuck did you think just hiding everything was the best course to take?”

“Look, Damara and I–”

“Stop,” he interrupted again. “You’re the one with the matesprit. Damara doesn’t owe me shit and holy fucking shit has she been through some stuff on her own.”

“Like I haven’t?” Latula glared. “You  _ know _ what I’ve seen.”

“What we’ve  _ all _ seen, Latula. You’re not special. You should’ve said something. I’m not exactly sure how I feel and now really isn’t the best time to talk this all through.” Mituna closed his eyes. “What does it even matter anymore? We’re all being hunted now. One by one.”

What the fuck?!

“It’s not like that. We’ve got support now.”

“You goddamn stupid  _ bitch  _ –” he yelled and slammed a fist into the bed. His eyes were wide now, looking at her with a barely-concealed rage that vanished as soon as the words had left his mouth. “Oh shit… Latula – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Latula felt her heart starting to race – she could see Mituna shaking. He’d never once so much as raised his voice to her in a sweep. Now he was screaming at her – and she supposed she probably deserved at least a little bit of that.

Bullshit! He doesn’t get to talk to me like that!

“Fuck you,” she said quietly. “You have the right to feel however you want, but you’re not gonna talk to me like I’m nobody. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you something before – that was shitty and wrong of me. But I’m not stupid because I didn’t know what to do with my feelings or how to come to you with this.”

The shaking was getting worse – he grabbed the side of the bed. “I’m sorry… it’s not that.”

“What? What is it? Is that just how you see me, then?”

He shook his head. “No… it’s… there’s something  _ watching _ us.”

Some _thing._

He’s scaring me.

“What the hell?” She pushed her chair back a few inches. “What are you talking about?”

“Fucking  _ ultra-black _ you goddamn stupid–”

He seemed to come back into himself and blinked thickly. Latula pushed herself to her feet.

“I’ll come back later. Again… I’m sorry. Maybe this wasn’t gonna work out… but if you keep calling me stupid like I’m some wiggler then it definitely won’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m mad, okay. I’m mad about how you decided not to tell me something that wouldn’t have even fucking bothered me. But I’m also scared shitless or other stuff that I can’t quite put my finger on. And Scratch scares me. And the Authority scares me. I’m fucking scared and I’m not sleeping and I keep snapping at everyone. Now just… it’s not a good time to talk through our feelings, okay?”

“Sure.” She took a couple steps toward the door. “Don’t know how many different ways to tell you I feel like shit I didn’t say something sooner. Also… god damn… you don’t think I know there’s more going on here than our personal lives? You think I’m that stupid? I can either drive myself up the wall worrying about stuff I can’t do shit about right now or I can try to talk through something I actually maybe can. You’re a fucking genius – how come that never occurred to you?”

Latula didn’t wait around for a response.

* * *

She tried to go back to her room and relax on the pile – it wasn’t working. An hour later, she was wandering the halls again looking for Meenah or Aranea. She needed answers – she deserved answers.

Meenah was sitting at a table by herself in the cafeteria when Latula found her – she looked distracted and she looked worried in a way that wasn’t very much like her at all.

“Meenah, can we talk?” Latula took a seat across from her at the table.

“Sure, why the fuck not – this can’t be any worse than what’s already going on.”

Latula narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Where should I start?” Meenah asked. “Kurloz has been acting really suspicious so he’s gonna be locked up until I can sort all this out. Cronus has just informed me that we may be way the fuck in over our heads… as if that wasn’t obvious. And your matesprit is acting cagey as shit.”

Latula winced. “Maybe not my matesprit anymore but… yeah, whatever. Where’s Aranea? I need to talk to her too.”

“She went with Vriska and Damara to go talk to someone at the 1st Fleet R&D. Except the whole complex has gone silent so that’s pretty fucking worrying. Fuck!” She hit the table with a balled fist. “That Sollux guy is working on getting something set up to get us back in touch with their security, at least.”

“So… what’s the plan?”

Meenah gripped the edge of the table – she was glaring and gritting her teeth. “The plan is I don’t fucking know what the fucking plan is!” She stood up and kicked her chair back.

“Our shit is falling apart – don’t you  _ get _ that, Latula? Whoever this Scratch dude is, he played us for a bunch of fucking fools. We’re scattered – and the fucking _Authority?!_ They don’t know any more than we do!” She let out a derisive  _ hmph _ and sat back down. “Fuck! I don’t know what else to _do!_ ”

She was right. As much as she acted like she was a little bit – maybe more than a little bit – above them, Meenah had been there all along. She and Aranea had been helping keep their weird, makeshift crew glued together.

“I’ll come back later…” Latula stood up quietly and started to walk off, but Meenah reached out and grabbed at her arm.

“Wait.”

Latula turned to look at her.

“The Authority folks here don’t trust anyone,” Meenah said. “They trust  _ us _ more than they trust half their own people. That’s why we haven’t left this safe house for three days. That’s why they’re doing everything themselves. Whatever they’re doing over at Fleet R&D, you can bet it’s gonna be another four-quads card they play face-down to the table, y’know?”

She should just keep walking – pull her arm away and keep going and not worry about this. She’d already been through enough – she deserved a chance to rest. But something prevented her from doing it – some sense that, whatever the reason, Meenah knew what she was talking about.

“So what the hell do you suggest  _ I _ do?” She could feel herself spitting the words out – daring Meenah to give her something more concrete than these vague insinuations that  _ something else was going on here. _

“Keep an eye on the Authority folks and be ready to move. I have a feeling they’re gonna want to use you as muscle – that’s what they’ve been doing so far. They wouldn’t be using our folks if they trusted their own.”

And she had a point. Surely the Authority – the right-hand of Her Imperious Condescension herself – had access to more than a motley handful of assorted trolls. The secrecy – the vague hints at something happening out in the world that they were hiding from – it was all becoming too much to bear.

Latula nodded to Meenah, who relaxed her grip on Latula’s arm. Without another word, Latula walked out of the Cafeteria to find Terezi.


	26. The Indelicate Digital

A little bit of regret… tinged with the knowledge that it was something that they’d both wanted. Damara wasn’t sure how to process that, exactly.   
  
Wasn’t sure if it mattered.

**3rd Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **1st Alternian Fleet, R &D Command Division, North Alternian**

“...better fucking wake up, god fucking damn it!” Damara felt someone shaking her. She was waking up, but she was so  _ tired _ now. The memory was a vague haze now – a hail of rushing bullets and teal blood splattered everywhere. A dash of cerulean on the metal.

Damara sat up, her eyes suddenly wide and the adrenaline mod delivering a quick  _ wake up _ shock to her system. She turned and grabbed Vriska by the throat before the cobalt bitch could touch her again. She was on her feet in a second, holding Vriska – and maybe the higher bloods like to think of themselves as superior, but Damara had trained since she was seven sweeps old for this life – no matter how much she wanted to leave it behind.

“You  _ shot _ her!” Damara snarled the words out, her face a mask of rage. She fought the urge to drop back into the combat trance again – her body wouldn’t be able to handle the strain so soon after. The wound on Vriska’s shoulder had been bandaged up at some point, but the blue stain of her blood was seeping through.

“I seem to recall you did that first,” Vriska croaked – her face spread into a sickening smile. Damara let go of her throat and she slowly massaged her neck, the smile still plastered on.

“Only because she gave me no choice – she shot at you.”

Vriska nodded slowly. “And then what? Were you going to leave her to either bleed out slowly or shoot one of us in the back? Honestly – I did you  _ both _ a favor.”

The desire to choke Vriska was welling up again. Damara fought back against it, breathing deeply. “You shot my fucking friend in the head.”

“Friend?! Are you serious?!” Vriska laughed. “She was AIS – we don’t have _friends!_ We have assets and informants… we have people that we use to get what we need. Do you think Aranea was any different?”

“Don’t you fucking say her name!” Damara looked down, searching for where she’d dropped her carbine.

Noticing this, Vriska clicked her tongue. “Sorry, I took your gun away. You won’t need it anyway, seeing as you managed to completely wipe the security team before you passed out. Impressive work, by the way – the magic of Alternian science put to excellent use.” She laughed a bit at the end – this was all a big private joke to her.

She wanted to kill Vriska. Wanted to tear her throat out for what she did. Because even though Aranea had been a threat, she’d been a threat because she was scared. Because she didn’t know which way to turn between two horrible options. Damara could empathize.

But if she killed Vriska, then it would be over. As soon as the lockdown lifted there would be enough guards to completely overwhelm her. She would die and she wouldn’t see Latula or any of her friends again. Aranea would just be another anonymous victim of the Empire.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Damara looked around – she didn’t see anyone besides her and Vriska. “Isn’t the lockdown over? Where the fuck is everyone?”

“About that…” Vriska tapped her metal arm to her forehead.

“What the  _ fuck _ does that mean?!” She wasn’t actually sure she’d be able to keep from choking the life out of Vriska.

“We can’t lift the lockdown.”

Damara stared – she was going to take the gun out of Vriska’s hands and beat her to death with it. She swallowed the rage that was building in her and glowered instead. “Why?”

Without another word, Vriska handed a slip of paper to Damara.

When the lockdown initiates, use the arc welder I’ve concealed in the southern restroom to jam the lock leading down to the lower levels. Once you’re done, simply wait for the security team – they’ve been instructed on what to do next.   
  
Remember that your matesprit is counting on you! I wouldn’t want you to let him down!”

“What the fuck is this?” Damara crumpled the paper.

“I found it on one of the corpses of the workers. Guess he didn’t think through what  _ instructed what to do next _ might actually mean.” Vriska shrugged. “Too bad.”

“The doors?”

“I think the technical term is  _ completely fucked _ . The mechanism is welded and the arc welder was destroyed so we couldn’t use it to cut through even if they weren’t four-inch reinforced steel. We’re stuck.”

Damara glared. “Why can’t we lift the lockdown then?”

Vriska spoke as if she were explaining a simple concept to a wiggler. “Because the lockdown procedure requires that the security team check in from the lowest floor. There’s a mechanical hardline that only the security team has the code-phrase for. It was written down, so that part’s settled but…”

“We can’t get to the line.” Damara clenched her fists. “Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly. We’ve still got the better part of three days, but after that the safety fallback kicks in and…” she made a  _ poof _ noise with her mouth and spread her hands in the air. Damara got the message.

* * *

They couldn’t go down any further with the door welded shut, but they could go back the way they’d come down. It took them ten minutes to work their way back up to the top floor – Damara was still reeling from the side-effects of the combat stimulants her body had been coursing with not so long ago. As soon as they reached the command floor, they went straight for Kanaya’s workshop.

Vriska slammed the door to the workshop shut behind them and tossed the service pistol down on the tabletop next to where Kanaya was sitting. She looked somewhat worse for the wear – her features lined with worry and the top buttons of her unmarked officer’s uniform undone. She took the pistol, unloaded it, and set it aside.

“I take it that you were not successful in lifting the lockdown, given that we are still in a state of total lockdown.”

Damara saw Vriska grimace. “No shit, fussyfangs. Scratch had this planned out – someone on the inside welded one of the doors down and the security team took everyone out before we could get to them.”

“That is unfortunate.” Kanaya paused – she looked like she was working through something in her mind.

Why’d he bother doing all of this?

There were a lot of steps – to have one person weld one of the doors down and then have the security team kill everyone. Scratch’s note to the security staff had promised safe passage, but Damara couldn’t see how that was possible. She might not have the training of Aranea or Latula when it came to making deductions, but she wasn’t stupid.

Kanaya was sighing – she sounded like she’d gotten to the point of utter, hopeless defeat. “I suppose there is no harm in informing you both of my private theory. After all – if we cannot lift the lockdown then it is simply a matter of days before we are all dead.”

Damara looked at Vriska, but the cerulean looked just as confused as Damara felt.

Kanaya tapped the table, full of nervous energy. “I do not believe that this Scratch is in fact a person – which is to say I do not believe he is a singular entity at all.”

She paused and fidgeted with her fingers. “Actually, that is a poor way to put it. I shall speak as simply as possible – I believe that the thing that we call Scratch is an artificially constructed intelligence.”

Damara stared.

“That’s fucking impossible!” Vriska shouted. “AIS and the Fleet have been trying to get AI to work for twenty sweeps – there’s no enough processing power in the tech to make it work on any level.”

“It is somewhat more complicated than that.” Kanaya leaned forward against the table, propping her chin up with her hands. “There was – is – a project within the Fleet known as Deep Mirror. It exists well off most of the Fleet records and only a handful of officers and researchers known that it even exists, let along what it really _is._ ”

This was starting to sound ominous – Damara was paying attention.

“The project began fifteen sweeps ago after sweeps of failure at creating anything approaching a workable artificial intelligence. The project was designed to revise the methods of looking at how the problem was approached in the first place. In particular, this was around the time we began to evolve our understanding of how the Deep Felt works in a way that was more methodical and less intuitive.”

Damara knew that the terminology was going to start to get hard to follow, but she knew she could remember what was being said. If they found a way out, then Mituna needed to hear this. He would know what to do with it.

“After five sweeps, the construct that they created had achieved something we would recognize as self-awareness. I do not know the details of how this came to be, exactly – it predates my time with the Alternian Fleet. Once it attained some measure of self-awareness it began to insist that we refer to it as  _ Doc _ –”

Kanaya smiled. “I believe the logic had to do with the fact that nearly all of our researchers were doctors of one kind of another. A kind of wry humor, perhaps.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“It was around this time that a brilliant young Sub-Commander by the name of Kanaya joined the Fleet’s research division. She had a blood name back then, but it has been stricken from all the records.” Kanaya sounded almost sad – as if she were longing for those days again.

“I know this part anyway,” Vriska said impatiently. “You were in Fleet research and you did some smart shit that caught the attention of the Empress and now you’re here. Blah blah blah. You told me when you joined.”

Kanaya flushed jade. “That is not… a wholly complete account of events.”

Vriska narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. Kanaya continued –

“Eighteen perigees before I joined the Authority, there was an… incident. It is difficult to talk about – not because the subject itself is especially difficult for me, but because it is unclear exactly what happened and in what order.”

Damara was looking closely at Vriska as the conversation unfolded – something lit up in her eyes and she mouthed something to herself.

“Doc had been displaying increasingly unusual behavior. While it had previously been quite open and curious, it began to show signs that it was learning how to  _ deceive _ us. Small things at first, but increasingly worrying.”

Kanaya stopped talking and looked down at the table. She shook her head, her face a portrait of unease.

“I fear that it might have partly been my fault – I insisted that we not overly limit Doc’s access to our own internal network out of concern that doing so would be tantamount to torture. It had certainly attained some substantial measure of consciousness at that point. But then…”

She looked directly at Vriska and her face softened – Damara could see tears in her eyes. “One day, Doc simply vanished from our system. It was simple…  _ gone _ . Off into the aether of the Deep Felt… and we didn’t know how. Until we began to cross-reference unusual events that happened in the same time period.”

Vriska’s eyes grew wide and she rubbed her metal arm.

“We learned that an agent of the Alternian Intelligence Service had been gravely injured under a set of extremely unusual circumstances. She had been involved in a mission that was classified above my ability to see, but my commanders made me aware that some form of processing technology had been involved.”

“It was a network processing core,” Vriska said quietly. She was saying it for Damara’s benefit – this felt like something she and Kanaya had discussed before. “A set of them, actually. We received credible intel that several of them had been stolen from a Fleet lockup… except…”

She balled up her metal fist. “They weren’t stolen. They were still in the lockup. We ran diagnostics on all of them and they came back clean… until one of them blew up in my fucking hand.” She spread the metal fingers. “Guess they put me back together well enough, but that shit fucking _hurt!_ ”

Kanaya nodded. “Indeed. I put the pieces together after the fact, once I met Vriska after the Authority recruited me. I spent eighteen perigees trying to make the connection, but the only thing I was able to deduce is that Doc had somehow managed to distribute its intelligence into the Felt. That it was no longer bound to a single network. I had no idea how it was possible, but I presented my evidence and theories to my commanders… and they promptly ignored me.”

“Except they fucking didn’t,” Vriska interrupted. Kanaya nodded at her.

“Quite so. I received an anonymous letter explaining that I should be in a particular place at a particular time, and thus the course of my existence was forever altered.” She smiled, wistfully.

“Neat story,” Damara said. “But what the hell makes you think Scratch is the same as Doc? Because he’s good with the Felt?”

“That is certainly a part of it,” Kanaya responded. “But it was a combination of factors originating with the mission that you all took part in at the Alternian Fleet depot. The way the job was set up and the items stolen – those showed remarkable similarities to the being we called Doc.”

She looked away. “The other part… was the language he uses. For some reason Doc began to display an increasingly unsettling vernacular. In particular it adopted a strangely sexually abrasive tone with women. I personally spent some time trying to identify why that might be the case, but the bottom line was we weren’t willing to erase sweeps of progress because the being was talking like a bit of a pervert.”

“So what the fuck does he want here?” Damara asked in a low voice. “What is he looking for?”

Kanaya shook her head. “That is unclear. I have been attempting to diagnose the issue as much as possible with what little access Scratch has left me – I believe he is attempting to access random files and devices on our network but I cannot identify the end goal. It is all quite baffling.”

“Baffling?!” Damara took a step back. “It’s fucking  _ baffling _ to you?! Do you know what this has cost us?! My friends all almost fucking died this last time. The time before that… my matesprit…” She felt the words catch in her chest and it was suddenly hard to breath. She fought through the feeling – turned and raised a fist.

“We aren’t fucking pieces in some game!”

Kanaya shrugged, and in that moment Damara wanted to kill her just as much as she wanted to kill Vriska. Wanted to grab that smug face and put it through the nearest window. They took her life – the lives of everyone she still cared about – and acted like it meant nothing at all. It didn’t matter  _ what _ Scratch was. Because at the end of the day, what he was  _ doing _ didn’t change. That was all that mattered – that, and how to stop him from doing it.

With a nearly-feral growl of frustration, Damara turned and stormed out of the workshop. Neither Vriska nor Kanaya made a move to stop her.


	27. Ultra-Black

**4th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

It gave Mituna a bad feeling all over when he woke up to the sound of Sollux moving telNet equipment into his room. A heavy cart loaded down with terminal connection equipment, trailing a snake of cables that led out of the room. On top of the cart, Mituna could see a wetware headset. It looked like newer Fleet tech. Of course it was – the Authority spared no expense.

He’d only managed to sleep a couple of hours the night before – his head still had pressure behind the temples like it was going to pop. It was hard to do anything other than just lie in bed. It didn’t help that apparently Kurloz had been locked up and Meulin had hidden herself in her room.

And Latula only came in because she felt guilty and wanted to hash things out – something that Mituna didn’t really want to do in the first place. It was a conversation for another time and place, and he already felt enough like shit without trying to force it right now.

S kept moving equipment into the room until there was a small control bank’s worth of gear on the side of the bed.

“I hate to ask – what the fuck is all this for?” Mituna stared at Sollux, who shrugged.

“You’ll have to ask Terezi.” He shrugged and walked out without saying anything else.

* * *

When Sollux came back a half hour later, Terezi was with him. She was glaring and talking in a low whisper to Sollux as they walked in, and she slammed the door behind her.

“We’ve got a problem, Captor,” Terezi said sharply. “You’re going to help us fix it.”

He pushed himself up in the bed. “What’s this problem only I can fix and why the fuck should I bother to care?”

Terezi sighed, heavily, and shook her head. She closed the distance between her and the bed – before Mituna could blink, she had a service pistol pressed again his forehead.

“You’ll help us because otherwise I will splatter your fucking brain on this pillow and not think twice about it.”

Mituna laughed and pressed his head forward into the barrel of the pistol. “Is that all? Did you even bother to see why I was doing any of this in the first place? Do you have any idea what the Empire  _ did _ to me? Did to my friends?! Why the fuck would I help you?!”

“What’d he promise you?” Terezi asked – the hand holding the pistol wasn’t wavering. “Freedom? A chance to fight against the Empire that hurt you oh-so-much? A chance to live your own life?”

Her face twitched and she shook her head. “Those are lies for stupid wigglers. Whether it looks like it or not, we’re in the middle of a fucking  _ war _ and if you’re going to decide to throw in with Scratch and whoever he’s been hiring to do his dirty work, I will fucking [i]put you down![/i]”

Part of him wanted to dare her to do it some more – to see how far she’d go before she finally lost her temper and sent a bullet through his aching head. Part of him  _ wanted _ it to happen – wanted her to make the pain and confusion just stop. He wouldn’t have to worry about balancing anything anymore – wouldn’t have to worry about who was lying to him in what way.

But part of him thought that first part was being ridiculous though. He still had people he cared a lot about – Kurloz needed whatever allies he could get and Mituna had no idea what was going on with Meulin. And as much as he was annoyed with her, he cared a lot about Latula. If he died, he’d be leaving them behind.

Mituna lay back in the bed. “Fine. What is it that only I can help with?”

Terezi smiled a predator’s grin and holstered her pistol. “Nice to know you’re being reasonable. The problem we’re having is a simple one – the team we sent to Fleet R&D hasn’t come back and hasn’t checked in. In fact, we’re unable to raise them on the comms at all.”

She cracked her knuckles. “Yesterday we thought it was just an issue with their end of things, but we were finally able to get a hold of the base itself and were told that the command center has gone into full lockdown mode. That means they’ve got three days – two, now – before the automatic routines kick in and turn that place into a smoking crater.”

Mituna stared at her – she stared back.

“You’re fucking kidding,” he said. “This is a fucking joke.”

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking to you?” She glared. “The fact that the lockdown hasn’t been lifted yet means that something has gone seriously wrong. The fact that it happened right as we were trying to find out more about Scratch is too much of a coincidence. I need to know what happened inside of that building and I need that lockdown to be lifted.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I’m assuming lockdown means no access to the telNet and that means no Felt either.”

Terezi smiled again. “Now you know that isn’t true.”

A shiver went straight down the back of his skull – because she was right. He  _ did _ know that. There were pathways into the Felt that no one liked to talk about because they didn’t make any rational sense. They defied the careful reason and study that had been built up to support the Felt tech’s use. But sometimes Mituna wondered if the ones who’d developed the technology had maybe known what was out there.

Know, and simply not cared.

The Deep Felt.

“No.” Mituna’s voice was the slightest whisper – he couldn’t breath. “There’s no way in hell.”

She shrugged. “I’m going to get on a rotary with whatever kind of team I can scrounge up in this shithole and head to Fleet R&D. You and Sollux here are going to do everything in your power to get inside and find out what the hell is happening.”

She was halfway out of the room before she turned and looked at Mituna. “I’d say I believe in you or some shit but it’d be a lie. I don’t have a fucking choice.”

As soon as Terezi was gone, Mituna sat up and glanced over at Sollux, who was fiddling with the controls on the console – the console Mituna now strongly suspected was designed as a Deep Felt control console.

“Why can’t you do this if it’s so important?” he asked Sollux.

“It’d kill me. Fleet never cleared me to go deep – said that I had a neurological condition that’d make it… bad for me.”

That explained why he was doing all the support work without ever putting on the wetware himself. There’d been plenty of folks like him in the Fleet – those who had some quirk of biology or brain chemistry that made the idea of diving into the Felt a potentially lethal proposition. Sometimes the Fleet caught those issues and slotted them for duty as support techs.

Sometimes.

But not always.

Mituna cringed to himself. He wasn’t ready for this – wasn’t ready for any of this.

“This is basically the same as a Fleet rig,” Sollux said. He picked up the wetware headset and handed it to Mituna – the design was instantly recognizable, even if they’d made a few design tweaks in the last few sweeps.

“I thought Deep Felt could only be accessed outside of the atmosphere.”

S shook his head. “Not strictly true – it requires specialized hardware, but it’s possible. We’ve got this gear hooked into a specialized setup that’ll allow you to plug in.

He hadn’t plugged in for three sweeps – not like that. Technically he had still been cleared for it by medical – but he’d known himself well enough to know that taking the option to cut at the three sweep service anniversary was the right call to make. Now he was considering diving back in again.

No, that wasn’t right – he was going to dive back in. Because what other possible option did he have? He didn’t care that much about Vriska, but Aranea was trapped in Fleet R&D. And Damara.

And Latula cared a lot about Damara. And Mituna cared a lot about Latula.

Fucking damn it all this is too goddamn much!

“Fuck it,” Mituna said. “Let’s fucking do this.”

He put the wetware headset on and adjusted it – the quick burn of the contacts against his temples flared up, then subsided. Then everything went dark.

Not the dark he saw when he closed his eyes.

This was something deeper – something that spoke of the hollow void spaces that existed between the stars of the universe.

This was the ultra-black.

* * *

INITIATING DEEP FELT HOLDOVER ROUTINE   
PLEASE WAIT…   
CALIBRATING CONNECTION…   
…   
CONNECTION VALIDATED   
SC < you're iin2iide now, riight?   
MC > Y34H, 7H47'5 FUCK1NG R1GH7   
MC > F0RG07 H0W W31RD 7H15 F33L5   
SC < well forget that bull2hiit   
SC < you've got work two do!

Mituna reached out with his senses – the Deep Felt was different in so many ways that the Felt. Everything flooded in all at once, but it buffered up against a barrier – like the ocean surging up against a seawall. That ocean contained the entirety of everything that the Felt could connect to, and to try to swim unaided in it would result in you drowning.

MC > Y0U M1ND G1V1NG M3 4 FUCK1NG 70K3N?   
MC > R47H3R N07 L053 MY FUCK1NG M1ND 1N H3R3!   
SC < yeah, hold onto your 2hiit   
NAVKEY.TKN RECEIVED   
MC PROCESS NAV -NAVKEY.TKN   
NAV PATHWAY OPENED   
SC < you 2ee iit?   
MC > Y35 1 FUCK1NG 533 17

A shining thread in the depths – a singular infinity in one dimension that carved a route through the void of the ultra-black. A lifeline. Mituna touched that line with his mind and a flood of new sensations hit him all at once. He braced against it – let them wash over him. Just a bit of water crashing over the top of the seawall.

Along the thread he flew – skimming over the tops of the waves and letting himself be carried by the line.

He was expecting the Fleet R&D complex to stand out against the Deep Felt, but he wasn’t ready for how  _ bright _ it was. The sensation was like staring into the white-hot light of a star – the burning presence of all the thousands of interconnected systems and individual little trails that led inside.

And in the center, a void that stretched into infinity on the top and bottom.

MC > W3 G07 4 M4J0R FUCK1NG PR08L3M H3R3   
MC > C0MPL3X 15 C0MPL373LY F3L7 D4RK   
MC > Y0U M1ND 73LL1NG M3 WHY 7H3Y 7URN3D L173R4LLY 3V3RY7H1NG 0FF?   
SC < that doe2n't make any fuckiing 2en2e!   
SC < the complex can't go dark!   
MC > W3LL 1'M FUCK1NG L00K1NG 47 17!   
MC > WH47'5 7H3 R&D 5U8N37 1D?   
SC < 19.5.12.x   
MC ID SUBNET -19.5.12.X   
SUBNET NOT FOUND   
FELT EXCHANGE INVALID

Mituna was worried about this – something was happening to obscure or cut the network off. He believed Sollux that it wasn’t possible for the complex to go completely dark – but he didn’t believe it was impossible to make it  _ appear _ like it’d gone dark.

The layer below the Felt called to him – the place where everything started to blend together. The vast, deep ocean that you drowned in. Mituna reached down, just slipping the tip of his fingers into that inky abyss.

He could feel something familiar in the depths.

ΖlӾ~2|*ۖ3֍ݣ߂_ܻ۶mŬڙ$&P+8رGݚ̜նܦ֏   
؈ИJؕ�ZĘއڱ-ؚذ||AAت;´єߕ)kɾģiǟǄPȧ   
V^׆GƪޭHڨوɮRο̌vԑ,5;=ḙ̌îݝNȯgڮދF̺   
? < He can’t hear us for now, Mituna.   
? < How have you been, by the way? I always forget to ask.   
? < It’s been a few days now, right?   
MC > Y0U 50LD U5 0U7!   
? < I keep having this conversation with you people.   
? < I did what was necessary to bring down the Empire.   
? < This is merely the next step.   
? < Did you stop to ask yourself why?   
? < Why they need YOU to do this for them?   
MC > 7H3Y D1DN'7 7RY 70 K1LL U5!   
? < Neither did I. I simply put you in a situation where your survival was…   
? < not guaranteed.   
MC > WH47 7H3 FUCK D0 Y0U W4N7 FR0M U5?! FR0M M3?!   
MC > WHY W0N'7 Y0U L34V3 U5 7H3 FUCK 4L0N3?!   
? < Don’t fret. I simply need you to stay for a short while longer.   
? < Do what they want, but don’t tell them about me.   
MC > 50 WH47 1F 1 D0?   
? < Then I WILL try to kill you.

Time was going to start getting slippery soon – Mituna could already feel it blending around. He could feel something moving on on the complex – something at the edges.

MC < you fiind anythiing? you 2paced for liike a half hour!   
MC > N07 Y37 - 1'M 571LL L00K1NG!   
MC < well hurry iit the fuck up! they're iinbound!

That was what it was – the feeling of something familiar edging in. The rotary aircraft that Terezi had taken. They must be approaching the R&D complex now. Mituna reached back, reached for the communications network. Deep Felt wasn’t going to let him tap directly into the radio network like the standard Felt connection would – it was too distant and abstracted for that. But he could pull the data – transcribe it – modify the output.

MC TRANSCRIBE COMFREQ 19.5.X.X   
BEGIN RADIO COM TRANSCRIBE   
A: This is Legislacerator Terezi on rotary LC-128932D, requesting airspace clearance.   
B: Rotary LC-128932D, this is Fleet security, transmit ident codes.   
A: Done.   
B: Oh… oh holy shit. Ma’am, you are cleared through to firebreak.   
B: Please be advised lockdown is in effect beyond.   
B: We can’t guarantee your safety.   
A: I don’t need a fucking guarantee.   
C: We’re weapons hot.   
A: Stay off the fucking comms, Latula!   
MC HALT TRANSCRIBE

She was there! Of course she was… the Authority had no idea who they could trust and Latula was one of the few people with any kind of combat experience who wasn’t already at Fleet R&D.

MC > WH47'5 G01NG 70 H4PP3N 70 H3R?   
MC > 1 KN0W Y0U'R3 84CKF33D1NG 7H15 - 1 C4N F33L 17   
MC > WH47'5 G01NG 70 FUCK1NG H4PP3N 70 H3R?!   
? < If you keep stalling for me, nothing.   
? < Otherwise… I can’t make any guarantees.

The feeling of an intrusive presence inside of the Deep Felt shifted, but it didn’t completely vanish. Scratch was still out there watching him – ready to intervene if something went against whatever designs he had.

Mituna felt powerless – more so than he ever had before in his life.


	28. Long, Dark Hours

**4th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

Kurloz had long since given up pounding on the door of the room that they’d locked him inside. At first it had given him a sense of control – a taste of rebellion against the injustice that was being done. But then Terezi had come in and administered a very specific brand of  _ correction _ and he wasn’t going to risk that again. He was tough, but the idea of having to recover from a broken bone in the dubious care of the Authority wasn’t one that appealed to him.

His brothers and sister were cut off from him. He knew Meulin had tried to visit, because he heard the posted guard shouting at her from the hallway. As far as Kurloz knew, Mituna was still confined to his hospital room. The two who mattered most to him – the ones closest to anything resembling matespritship… in its own, unique way. Not something that many understood – the idea that someone could have such a strong connection to someone they weren’t flushed red for.

They didn’t need to understand – they just needed to leave him the fuck alone!

It was bad enough that the Messiahs had decided to leave him utterly alone in this darkest hour of his torment. Bad enough that the whispering Devil spoke to him from between the black lines of the screens.

But the Authority would cage him like a barkbeast sooner than admit their own role in what had befallen them. They would sooner slaughter a thousand innocents that admit for a single fraction of a single second that they had been _wrong._

Kurloz sat on the floor in the middle of the room and stared at the door. He knew that it wasn’t going to open – it wouldn’t open until the Authority needed something from him. Not even the Devil saw him like that. The Devil had come for them – attacked them. Because on some level he saw them as a threat. He saw them as something to be bargained with or eliminated.

The Authority simply saw them all as pieces in a vast game.

Maybe they were the real Devil. Or at least the  _ worse _ Devil. He wasn’t sure. He’d tried to commune with the Mirthful Ones – spent hours in this room-turned-cell trying to get them to speak to him again. They were silent.

The Devil said that they weren’t real. Kurloz was wondering if he was telling the truth. The Devil spoke in veiled truths – truths that ended up feeling like lies in the end. Maybe this was another one.

There was a knock on the door – Kurloz looked up and waited.

A moment later and the door opened. One of the guards stood there – unfamiliar to Kurloz. He was holding a rifle at the ready and he looked nervous – his eyes shifted around the room.

“Kurloz Makara, I need you to come with me.” He shifted the rifle – he didn’t seem like he was asking.

Kurloz stood and glared at him. “They sent you? Am I to finally be killed, my brother? Is that what is to happen to me?”

“Look, man… just please come with me. I’m supposed to say something and if I don’t get it right – fucking god…” The man was shaking. Kurloz stepped closer and leaned forward.

“Brother, who sent you to me?”

The guard swallowed and shook his head. “M–Mr. Makara – I am giving you a final opportunity to redeem yourself. They have abandoned you – I offer you the chance for… for salvation. Come with my associate, they will know what to do.”

He finished speaking and he was breathing heavily. Kurloz narrowed his eyes.

“What did he promise you?”

The man shook his head. “Please don’t do this.”

The Devil was willing to let him fly from this place. Something must have happened to occupy the others. In truth it wasn’t much of a choice – either he could be held captive by these servants of evil or knowingly walk toward another form of that same evil. That same lust for power and control.

“Very well,” Kurloz said. “But I need to see someone first.”

* * *

Meulin was in her room, but the door was open. She saw Kurloz as he walked in and ran over to wrap him in a hug. She was crying.

She pushed back from him and her hands danced. What the fuck is happening?

We have to go, sister. Right now. He gestured at the guard. This one works for the Devil – at least for now.

Are you fucking out of your mind?! For Scratch?! She glared at him. Why would you go along with this?!

“Mr. Makara, we need to go soon, please!” The guard’s voice was shaking. “We’re on the clock.”

He turned to look at the guard – the guard who was afraid, but not afraid of Kurloz. In spite of Kurloz’s physical stature and strength, he would be not match for the guard’s rifle. No… this was fear of something deeper, some more existentially connected to this man’s life.

I can’t explain it right now, but this is important. I need you to come with me, sister. Kurloz looked at Meulin and he could feel the pleading in his eyes. Please! I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important!

She narrowed her eyes – then nodded. Okay, fine. Give me one second.

* * *

The guard led them back through the main corridor and toward a small door on the side. The door was heavily reinforced and, Kurloz knew from experience, locked tight. Standing with her back against the wall was Porrim Maryam, the tattooed troll woman who’d been the harbinger of so much of their misery. She shifted to the middle of the hallway, standing in front of them.

She looked up at them and spoke quietly. “I’m assuming you’re heading out.”

Kurloz grimaced. “Move aside, sister.”

Porrim raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to further assume that this isn’t an officially sanctioned outing, right?”

“Sister, I told you to move aside!” Kurloz yelled. “What we’re doing is none of your concern.”

“He’s doing this, isn’t he? The one who calls himself Scratch?” She didn’t move. “And I told you before – stop calling me sister.”

The guard escorting them raised the rifle, but Kurloz reached up and pushed the barrel back down.

“We choose to leave this prison,” Kurloz said. “Whether or not you want to do the same is your own concern.”

She shook her head. “You’re not leaving the prison – just changing out one cell for a large one. But–” she sighed and stepped to the side of the corridor. “I’m not going to stand in your way.”

Kurloz walked past her. He was ignoring the remark about prison cells – they were all prisoners all the time. It wasn’t a matter of being free. Once he had believed that was possible – believed that the Messiahs were there to liberate him and the others. But no longer. The truth was that the world was a lie, but he could at least try to protect the ones he cared about.

He wished he could take Mituna, but he didn’t think it would be safe. And Mituna was in his room with Sollux – the Authority was making him do something. Maybe Scratch would make his own offer.

None of it mattered.

“I feel sorry for you.” Porrim’s voice – barely audible as he walked past. Kurloz stopped and turned to her – she looked up at him. “You can’t bargain with the Devil.”

He stopped to stare at her, but Meulin walked up and tapped him and he blinked and looked down at her.

We need to go, dammit! She shook her head and pushed on his arm.

He nodded, and turned to walk past Porrim and out the door.

* * *

Out the back, they exited into an alley that ran behind the building. There was an old compression engine sedan parked there with the engine idling. The guard nodded.

“Get in and the driver’ll take you where you need to go.”

And that was it. The guard hurried back inside and they were standing by the sedan. Kurloz looked down at Meulin.

This is is, kittybitch – moment of truth. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. You sure you want to do this? You can still go back inside and be safe.

Bullshit. It’s not safe inside – it’s not safe anywhere.

He smiled at her. I think you’re right, sister Meulin.

Kurloz stepped into the sedan with Meulin and the car started rolling without him saying a word to the driver. Meulin was staring intently out the window. She signed back at Kurloz.

I’m trying to figure out where the safehouse is. I think we might be in the Production District. She shrugged. Closest I can figure it.

The North Alternian Capitol was a large city, but what she was saying made sense. The Production District was comprised mainly of small-scale industrial fabrication and assembly operations. It would be easy to slip in without being noticed, and having a nondescript building that few people ever came into made sense. They could probably even fly a rotary aircraft in and it would blend right in with the normal Legiscorpus air traffic that was always hovering around the city.

Rolling along in silence – the driver wasn’t saying anything to either of them – Kurloz watched the cityscape blur by. And strangely, he felt less worried about Legiscorpus or the Authority tracking them down than he had about the Devil. The balance of power was starting to shift and the influence of the Empire was beginning to wane. Kurloz didn’t know how he knew this with such certainty, but he did.

Maybe the Messiahs hadn’t abandoned him.

Maybe they had been driven out. Been killed by the Devil who spoke in whispers from inside the void. Because Kurloz was sure that this was no mere mortal that was able to extend his influence through the deep spaces and into the hearts and minds of so many. To manipulate with words, and promises, and influence. Because their hearts all had secrets locked inside, and someone who knew those secrets could exert pressure.

Someone who knew the secrets of this world could use that to make the weak and strong alike bend to their will. The Messiahs had convinced their followers out of a desire to be closer to one another – a promise made of life and happiness. Their message was one of compassion. The Devil spoke in the words of self-interest – of protecting that which was closest and most dear to the heart. But they both manipulated – they both picked at the soft spots within Alternian hearts and used that to make their will into reality.

After all, what was the real difference between a Devil and a God?

Kurloz suspected that the true answer was that there was very little at all.


	29. On Approach

**4th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Near 1st Alternian Fleet, R &D Command Division, North Alternian**

Terezi: This is Legislacerator Terezi on rotary LC-128932D, requesting airspace clearance.   
Fleet Security: Rotary LC-128932D, this is Fleet security, transmit ident codes.   
Terezi: Done.

The thrum of the rotary aircraft’s engines was so loud that Latula could barely hear herself think, even with the heavy radio headset that blocked out most of the ambient noise, only letting the crackle of the radio through clearly. In the distance, the massive central tower of the First Fleet’s R&D Command loomed over the rest of the complex – a gray spire against the sky.

Fleet Security: Oh… oh holy shit. Ma’am, you are cleared through to firebreak.   
Fleet Security: Please be advised lockdown is in effect beyond.   
Fleet Security: We can’t guarantee your safety.   
Terezi: I don’t need a fucking guarantee.

Latula leaned forward and pulled the bolt back on her heavy machine gun. She couldn’t hear it, but she felt the bolt slam home with a  _ clack _ that ensured the first round was chambered.

“We’re weapons hot,” she yelled into the radio.

Terezi: Stay off the fucking comms, Latula!

She tapped the shoulder of the troll that was seated nearby – the comm sergeant, Latula figured.

Terezi: Get us on local-only comms, now.   
Comm Sergeant: Yes, ma’am.   
Comm Sergeant: Done.

Terezi nodded and adjusted the headset in front of her mouth.

Terezi: We have no idea what the fuck’s happening in there.   
Terezi: Fleet security can’t raise them on comms and they’ve been on lockdown for two days.   
Terezi: So we’re flying in blind.

There was the sound of her staticy laugh over the comms and Latula turned to see her grinning.

Terezi: Anyway – be ready. For all we know Scratch has already taken the place over!

Latula’s stomach dropped out as the rotary took a sudden dive and flew in low, skimming the tops of the smaller buildings in the outer complex. Her guts were keeping up as the rotary lurched, twisted, and swung around the side of the bulk of the command tower. She kept the machine gun trained on the building, not entirely sure  _ what _ she was expecting.

Terezi: Open comm to HQ.   
Comm Sergeant: Done, ma’am.   
Terezi: Sollux, are you there?   
Sollux: What is it?   
Terezi: Are we inside the system yet?   
Sollux: No, he’s still working at it.   
Terezi: Tell him to hurry the fuck up.   
Terezi: We’re ready to kick this shit in!

They pulled around the edge of the building, keeping a decent distance and turning so the side of the rotary with Latula’s gun was always facing inward. She was sweating – clammy palms slicking the grips of the machine gun – beads of moisture rolling down her forehead, tickling her. The roar of the rotary lay underneath everything, humming like some massive insect that she was trapped inside of.

The heavy buzz of the military drones echoed off of every surface around her. Latula could feel that raw seed of panic inside her blossoming into full-blown terror. She turned to run.   
  
It was too late to run.

Latula felt the rotary lurch again and she looked out the gunner’s port – not at a fleet of military drones but at a massive building that she was slowly circling from a hundred yards out. She was shaking and there were tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t reach up to wipe them away. The tears mixed in with the sweat and it stung her eyes as it dripped down. But she kept staring out the window at the building, aiming the gun and ready to rain death down if needed.

Ready?

Had she been ready for any of this?

Damara was inside the building. Gods knew what was happening in there. There was no doubt that Scratch was the cause of the lockdown, but the specifics were maddeningly vague. Flashes of blood and death danced behind Latula’s eyes, and she shuddered.

Mituna was being forced into the Felt again. Despite what had happened twice now, they wouldn’t let him stop. It was all they needed him for. All they needed any of them for was what they could give to the Authority. And in spite of how badly she’d handled things, she still loved Mituna. They had a lot to talk about – or maybe they didn’t.

Latula winced. It didn’t matter.

Can’t talk if his brain’s melting out his ears.

She tightened her grip on the grips of the machine gun.

Terezi: You got an update, Sollux?   
Sollux: We’re moving in now. Trying to skirt around a Felt black spot.   
Terezi: I don’t know what the fuck that means, but hurry up!   
Terezi: Hey, Junior Detective, keep that gun on the lookout!

Another turn of the rotary and they rounded another corner – the engine whined as they swung around. Latula fought with her breathing – fought the urge to panic. Fought the urge to let go of the machine gun and curl up into a ball.

How the FUCK is this my life now?!

There was a time – less than two weeks in the past – when she’d believed she was free. Mituna had gone into the Legiscorpus servers after the job went bad – had dropped a particularly nasty piece of code that was designed to wipe out everything that had on either one of them. Every second of surveillance footage. Every line of text. Every single bit of audio.

Somehow, it hadn’t worked. Legiscorpus – the Authority – had been onto them. Probably since the Depot job. The Empire could be patient when needed – it had stood for hundreds of sweeps because it could be patient.

Latula stared out the window – tried to focus herself down the barrel of the gun and onto the tower in front of her. Tried to be anywhere but on the inside of her mind.

I’m such a fucking mess.

But it didn’t seem like this was ever going to end. It was either Scratch or the Authority now. Latula wasn’t sure which was worse.

Terezi: Please tell me you’ve got something.   
Terezi: It’s been twenty fucking minutes!   
Sollux: No, I’m still…   
Sollux: Wait, hold on – uh… wait one!

Latula turned back to see Terezi gritting her teeth in frustration.

Terezi: I told you to keep that fucking gun ready!   
Sollux: What?   
Terezi: Not you, damn it!

Latula looked back out the window.

Sollux: Holy shit! I think he’s got it!   
Kanaya: ...broadcasting in the blind… immediately if able…   
Kanaya: Say again… on lockdown… the blind… able, over. Message will repeat, over.   
Terezi: Kanaya?! Is that live?!   
Sollux: We’re working on it! Getting some pushback, but I think he’s got it.

Latula felt herself starting to smile. Even with everything that was happening, Mituna wasn’t giving up on this. He wasn’t just going to just let them do this to everyone.

Kanaya: Say again, this facility is on lockdown after an internal attack.   
Kanaya: We are broadcasting in the blind.   
Kanaya: Send reinforcements immediately if able.   
Kanaya: Message will repeat, over.   
Terezi: Kanaya?! Can you hear me?!   
Kanaya: Say again–   
Kanaya: Terezi?!   
Terezi: We’re in a rotary circling the tower.   
Terezi: We’re trying to lift the lockdown now.   
Sollux: Hold on! Everything’s coming apart now!   
Sollux: Whatever that fucker was doing, it’s not working!   
Terezi: Is there anyone in the actual building?   
Kanaya: There…   
Kanaya: There was an incident.   
Kanaya: It was handled.   
Kanaya: We had several casualties, including one of your team.

Latula’s stomach dropped out beneath her and she felt like she was in free-fall. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She took her hands off the machine gun. She ripped the radio headset off, tossing the bulky earphones down to the side.

Terezi was yelling something, but she couldn’t hear it over the rotary engine. A wave of vertigo swept over her – her head was getting all fuzzy. She was going to throw up.

She unstrapped the harness on the jumpseat she was in and fell onto her hands and knees in the middle of the rotary’s deck. Her stomach heaved, but nothing came out. She could barely hear Terezi over the engine.

“...THE FUCK ARE YOU… PYROPE WHAT THE FUCK…”

Her stomach heaved again, and the remains of her lunch came splattering out in wet chunks on the metal deck.

* * *

Latula was back in the jumpseat by the time the rotary touched down on the roof of the command tower. When it had settled onto the landing pad and the engines spun down to idle, Latula unbuckled herself and stood up, her stomach still churning with nervous bile. Terezi walked over and handed her a short assault carbine.

“You gonna do that bullshit again?” she growled.

Latula groaned. “I’m fine.”

The gantry at the back of the rotary slammed to the ground and Terezi started toward the door. “You fucking keep up, Junior Detective, or I’m putting you in the fucking ground.”

They strode out onto the landing pad – well, Terezi strode with Latula shambling along after her, still almost doubled over. Terezi stopped and put a hand up – so they stood there unmoving while the rotary aircraft’s idling engine whirred loudly behind them.

Five minutes they stood there, and Latula’s insides were threatening to riot. She wanted to turn and run back into the rotary and curl up and cry. The worst part was she didn’t know  _ why _ this was hitting her so hard. It had been days since the failed raid on the bank. She hadn’t felt like this before. Why was this all happening now?!

She was inside!

Kanaya’s voice, breaking in the static over the radio. Several casualties. One on their team.

She wanted to throw up again, but she held it.

The door to the rooftop landing pad opened – and Latula saw three people step out.

Vriska, she recognized – Latula narrowed her eyes. Her shoulder was bandaged.

A tall troll wearing an unmarked commander’s uniform – Latula didn’t know her, but assumed she was probably Kanaya.

...and…

Damara Megido, walking like the weight of a thousand sweeps was on her shoulders, but absolutely alive.

Latula dropped the carbine on the ground and ran to Damara – she wrapped her arms around the troll’s body…

Damara pushed her back. There were heavy lines on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Latula asked. Then a moment of clarity – a damnable thought in the back of her mind that refused to go away. “Where… where’s Aranea?”

Damara’s breathing was heavy. “I couldn’t stop her in time.”

“What happened? What the fuck happened?!” Tears were starting up in her eyes again. The crawling sensation in her gut was back.

Damara looked away. “Aranea freaking out and pulled a gun on us down below – she shot Vriska –” it didn’t mean anything to Latula.  _ Down below _ could be anything!

“I was talking her down and she went to shoot Vriska again so I had to put her down.”

“You… you  _ killed  _ her?!” Latula’s eyes went wide. Her heart was going to stop.

“No!” Damara put a hand on Latula’s shoulder. “No! I had to shoot her, but I aimed low and she was only injured. But then…”

She glanced over at Vriska. It didn’t take a Legislacerator to figure out the meaning. Latula was shaking – her whole body was shaking.

“She’s dead, Latula… I’m sorry.”

Latula hadn’t been close to Aranea, but the idea that one of the Authority had just murdered her. In spite of everything that had happened,  _ this _ was the part that didn’t feel real. This was the part that felt like it was something out of her nightmares – out of the bad dream lands where Rufioh’s corpse still sometimes turned up to haunt her.

She leaned in, put her arms around Damara, and began to sob in rough, ragged fits into Damara’s shoulder.


	30. Recursive Detachment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: This chapter contains depictions of self-harm.

**4th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Authority Safe House, North Alternian Capitol**

“Where the fuck did he go?!” Meenah was shouting at Porrim. She could feel herself starting to shake and the tall, tattooed troll was just standing there looking as impassive as ever. “Where did Makara and Leijon go?!”

Porrim raised an eyebrow. “I already told you, they walked out the back with one of the guards. Beyond that, I can’t tell you.”

“Why didn’t you  _ stop _ them?!” She knew it was a stupid question as soon as she asked it, and so did Porrim. The guards had guns – they didn’t. “Fuck it – never mind. We need to tell Sollux.”

The voice rang out down the hall, as it called into being by fate. “Tell Sollux _what?_ ” Sollux had emerged from around the corner of the hall. He looked drawn-out, as if he’d been blasting on adrenaline for a while and now he was coming down.

“Your incompentent, corrupt guards let one of your prisoners escape,” Porrim said calmly, her voice lilting with barely-concealed contempt. “Pity about that.”

“Fuck.” That was all Sollux had to say on the matter, apparently. He motioned to Meenah. “You and I need to have a talk.”

* * *

They went to Mituna’s room – he was still there, lying on the bed and looking utterly drained. A cart nearby covered in tech and topped off with a wetware headset gave Meenah a pretty good idea as to why. She shook her head.

“You didn’t have anyone who didn’t just have their brain half-melted who could do… whatever this was.” She didn’t even try to hide the disgust in her voice.

“You’re one to talk, leaving your friends to do the dirty work.” Sollux glared at her. “Look how that ended up!”

He is so full of shit.

She had to laugh – he had no idea what he was talking about. So used to having the force of the Empire behind him – what would happen if he were suddenly taken away from that. He might’ve lost his blood status, but he lost it in exchange for nearly unlimited access to power. That didn’t seem like much of a loss to Meenah.

“What’d you want to talk about?” she asked. “Not your escaped prisoner, since that seems to be all-new information to you. What could you possibly have to tell me?”

“Scratch appears to have left our system.”

Meenah stared at him – that  _ was _ important. “Oh? He just fucked on off, then?”

“No, Mituna was able to make some gains using the Felt. Scratch dropped off the network and we started to regain control of the systems. We’re fully in control of the Fleet R&D control and are working to retrieve the survivors now.”

The survivors?

She didn’t like how that sounded – not at all. “What the fuck does  _ that _ mean?”

Sollux looked around the room, as if he were looking for an exit.

“I asked you a question.”

“There were casualties. From what we can tell, Scratch bribed the local security reaction team to kill everyone in the building. We’ve got no idea what the fuck could be so good that it got them on board but… well… the reaction teams are generally not selected for their calm, winning personalities.” He winced. “The security team was killed by your friend Damara. All of them.”

It surprised Meenah a lot less than it sounded like it surprised Sollux. She glared. “What’re you leaving out?”

He sighed – “One of your friends got… she was killed. The one named Aranea Serket–”

If there was more to the sentence, Meenah didn’t hear it. Her mind jumped and all she could hear was the ringing inside of her ears. The blood rushing through her head. The unbearable lightness.

I told her she could come with me

She stumbled. Back. Back into the wall and stared straight ahead. Sollux was saying something else. He was saying a lot – Meenah didn’t hear a word of it. She turned, fumbled with the door handle, and stumbled out into the corridor like a sleepwalker.

She’s gone

Aranea wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this shit in the first place. She was supposed to be on a ship to Landfall – the colony with the uncreative name where no one cared about blood color. A place they could make a new life. And maybe it wouldn’t have been luxurious, but at least it would’ve been _theirs._

She’s… really… gone

Stumbling down the corridor. Turn after turn. Toward Aranea’s workspace – the small room with the telNet terminal where Scratch spoke to them. Scratch.

The murdering bastard.

* * *

It didn’t  _ matter _ who had pulled the trigger, because Scratch had loaded the gun. Aimed it. Whispered the words that coaxed the finger that did the deed. He could say what he wanted about bringing down the Alternian Empire because she’d seen through it. She was the only one who saw through it from the beginning. Because he promised her something he couldn’t give her. Promised her something no one could give her.

Meenah slammed open the door to the workspace and walked up to the telNet terminal – burning amber. Burning in the darkness, blank and miserable. She walked up to the keyboard

MP > Are you there?!   
MP > )(-ELLO?! YOU FUCK-ER!   
MP > FUCKING ANSW-ER M-EDSRFGA IU)(N;O9-EWSRFGA IUJMNODSFGVAIUJ;O

She slammed her fist down on the keyboard, popping a few of the mechanical keys out of their slots and sending them scattering to the floor. She screamed incoherently – a noise of rage and pain and hatred – and grabbed the keyboard.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” She ripped the keyboard from the terminal and threw it across the room – it smashed into the wall and the keys blasted everywhere. Meenah screamed again.

“Goddamn fucking BASTARD! BASTARD! Fucking piece of shit!” She punched the table, drawing blood on her knuckles.

She could barely breathe – everything was happening too fast and too slow around her. Pressure building up – a sense that she couldn’t hold onto reality anymore. Her vision constricted and everything got dim.

“What the fuck was it?! What did I do?! What made you fucking choose me?! Was it… was I just convenient to you?! What about her – it wasn’t enough the first fucking time around?!”

She slammed the side of the terminal, a resounding  _ thump _ echoing in the small room.

“WHY WON’T YOU FUCKING ANSWER?!”

Meenah grabbed the heavy terminal from underneath, her arms straining against the weight of it. But she was strong – she hefted it up and threw it across the room – it made it six feet and crashed into the floor. The amber display tubes shattered and the delicate electronics burst into a riotous spray of silicon.

She screamed again, grabbing at her face, tearing her glasses off and slamming them to the ground with a crack. Sobbing – heaving – she slumped into the wall and slid down until she was leaning into the wall. She banged her head into the wall.

Again and again.

The sound was rhythmic – the pain. The impact against her skull… driving everything away except that singular sensation.

Everything was blank.

Blank and miserable.

* * *

It wasn’t clear how long she’d been sitting there before she heard the door slowly open. Porrim Maryam was standing in the doorway.

“You came to fucking gloat?” She closed her eyes. “Do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care.”

There weren’t any words – no jabs thrown her way. No remarks made. Only a subtle shift in the air and the soft sound of Porrim sitting down next to her. There was a shoulder pressed up against hers. She didn’t say anything.

Meenah was holding her breath. She let it all out at once, realizing in that moment how much her head was aching.

I… hit it harder than I thought…

The anger went rushing out of her like a wind – it exploded out into the room and danced away and left behind it only a bitter, painful sadness. A hollow emptiness that dug into her. Because

“She’s gone,” Meenah said, her eyes still closed. “She’s gone and she’s never coming back.”

The last time they’d spoken – the slam of the door as Aranea left the room. And nothing after that.

Never anything after that.

“I didn’t stop her,” Meenah’s voice was quiet – subdued. “We fought about… it doesn’t matter.”

She felt arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

“I know how you feel.” Porrim’s voice was soft – the sarcasm from before had evaporated. “There was a woman I loved very much once. Scratch did something… got her re-assigned to combat duty… and she was killed.”

Porrim’s breathing hitched up and she swallowed. “It was not so very long ago.”

Meenah felt something else creeping in – a deep regret that clawed up from the core of her stomach, ripping at her intestines – hurting her.

“I’d give anything to go back…” she didn’t know why she was telling Porrim this. She wasn’t supposed to be _vulnerable!_ “Anything. I just want to be able to see her again…”

A gentle squeeze. No words.

What the fuck am I suppose to do?

Was Scratch really gone? Just like that? He had used them all for whatever ends and then gone away because that’s who he was. For all the shit that Meenah had gotten, she was direct. She tried to play things straight, and if folks didn’t like it they could fuck off.

He was gone. Gone from their systems. Gone from the Fleet command center. Leaving behind a vacuum that Meenah couldn’t fill with hatred… because there was no one left to hate.

Couldn’t fill with love… because there was no one left to love.

Only bitterness was left.

And despair.


	31. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: This chapter contains depictions of excessive alcohol use.

**9th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Imperial Service Memorial Cemetery, outside the North Alternian Capitol**

At least the Empire kept its promise about the funeral.

The thought was dripping with the poison of sarcasm. The Empire was always able to fulfill the most basic, technically-true things it promised. A bump in your stipend for combat duty – when you washed out as a broken-down husk because of what you’d seen. Specialized training – that would then only be useful in a life of crime.

A state funeral – when one of their agents shot you in the head on a cold, metal floor.

And then you weren’t  _ anything _ anymore.

The memorial cemetery was a sweeping testament to the arrogance of the Empire. The rolling, artificially-curated hillsides were covered with grave markers. There weren’t any bodies, of course – even if it had been in Alternian culture to bury the dead instead of cremating them, the nature of how many of them died would make that impossible.

Most of them died in the various Colony Wars – on planets that were light-sweeps away. Fighting against people that had been labelled rebels and terrorists, but who in reality were just trying to work themselves out from under the boot-heel of the Empire. But that was unacceptable, so young Alternians had their hearts filled with stories about terrorist brutality and their heads filled with the training needed to bring those people to heel by whatever means necessary.

It made Damara sick to her stomach – doubly so because she’d been a part of it for so long. Six and a half sweeps. She felt like throwing up.

Tucked away in the far corner of the cemetery was a selection of graves with no names on them – a series of plain, white-stone columns inscribed with a singular motto:

_ That our way of life carries on _

In Old Alternian, of course. Damara couldn’t pronounce it, but she knew the translation by heart. The motto of the Alternian Intelligence Service.

They were gathered by the newest of these columns – the only one that Damara knew the name behind.

Aranea Serket. Fourteen sweeps old.

Killed by a single gunshot wound to the head. Now mourned by only a handful.

Damara looked out over the small group that had assembled to pay their final respects. Aranea hadn’t been a member of any of the Alternian religions, so there was no specific ceremony – the state cemetery didn’t really allow those anyway. They’d all agreed to gather to say their goodbyes. It was the least they could do, after everything.

Other than herself it was only Mituna, Latula, Meenah, and Porrim. Mituna, stretched almost to the point of breaking – shaking and barely able to stand. Latula, pointedly avoiding looking at either Damara or Mituna. Meenah, pretending to be okay. Porrim, here though she barely knew Aranea – standing next to Meenah and looking worried.

Their group had withered on the vine. Kurloz and Meulin had disappeared days ago and no one had heard anything from them. If the Authority cared about finding them, they hadn’t bothered to mention it to anyone. Damara had a feeling they would be written off as a loss and more-or-less left alone. She had that feeling about all of them.

“This was such fucking bullshit,” Meenah had her hand on the stone marker. Her eyes were dry, but they were red. She’d done her share of crying in the last few days. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.”

Damara could hear the raw anger in Meenah’s voice – could see how she trembled with barely-contained fury as she touched the marker. None of the rest of them said anything. What was there to say, after all? They’d been used and then they’d been abandoned. Again.

Whether it was by the Empire or Scratch, they would always be used and then abandoned. None of the Authority that they’d met had even bothered to show up at the cemetery. Sollux and Kanaya had offered bland condolences. Terezi had simply shrugged and said nothing. Vriska…

Vriska had been the one who pulled the trigger. She didn’t say anything to any of them.

Meenah was saying something else – something too quiet for Damara to hear. It felt private – something that wasn’t meant for others. Meenah knelt down and touched her forehead to the stone of the marker and closed her eyes.

* * *

They had all arrived separately, and they had all intended to leave separately. Porrim and Meenah spent a few minutes talking before they parted ways and left to their cars. Damara had arrived on the rail line – she didn’t have a personal car – and it was a half-mile walk to the station. As she walked down the path toward the main thoroughfare, she heard a voice calling from behind her.

“Damara! Wait!” It was Latula’s voice.

I thought she was going home with Mituna.

“Wait!”

Damara stopped walking and turned. “What is it?” Her voice sounded harsher than maybe she intended, but it didn’t matter.

“Oh… I just figured we could take the train together.”

Damara frowned. “You know I live in the rust district – it’s not exactly near the gold district. Why not just ride back with Mituna?”

Her face shifted and her expression was hard to read. She looked sad… confused… Damara wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, about that…” she trailed off and looked at the ground. “Mituna and I – we talked last night and decided it’s probably better to take some time off. You know… as matesprits.”

“Is this about us?” Damara asked. Despite her earlier thoughts about this being a matter for Latula and Mituna to sort out, she was feeling a stab of guilt.

Latula shook her head. “No. Well… kind of. It’s about a lot of things. Partly because I wasn’t talking about you and me. Partly because… I don’t know… a lot of things that’ve been building up in the last few days in particular. Mituna says he’s fine but I know he’s not… but also he doesn’t want me around right now, and I can’t force him.” She looked frustrated.

“I’m sorry.” Damara meant it – she had always liked Mituna. Part of why she was feeling guilty over the way that she’d handled things. “I think the train connects to the line that goes to government housing – what block did they assign you?”

“That’s the thing,” Latula said. “I took the increased stipend in exchange for not getting the housing assignment. Once I met Mituna – it seemed like a good idea at the time and we really needed the money. Those pills that he takes – the ones for his head. They’re not covered by the med system – not even legal, really…”

She was homeless. That was the long-and-short of it – Damara wasn’t stupid.

“Look,” Damara sighed, “come stay at my place. As long as you want.”

Her face lit up – Damara had a feeling she’d been dancing around the idea of outright  _ asking _ for a place to stay. “Really?! Oh shit, thank you!”

Latula reached out a hand and Damara took it, squeezing lightly. “Come on, let’s go home.”

* * *

**Rust District, North Alternian Capital**

It occurred to Damara, as they walked in the door, that in spite of having been red for each other for a half sweep, Latula had never been back to her place. Almost no one had. It was an austere single-room apartment that the Army paid for as part of her stipend package. Probably a bargain for them, given the fact that she’d probably be dead inside of another five sweeps.

She and Latula stepped inside the dim apartment – once the lights were on, it was clear just how sparse it was. There was a pile in the corner, a small desk with a few books, and a dresser that held all of Damara’s clothing. The kitchen was a small galley-style setup off the side of the single main room, and there was a bathroom that was basically a closet off to the other side of the main room. There was basically nothing in the way of excess furniture or any kind of decoration.

Latula looked around the room and whistled. “Oh wow – you were  _ not _ kidding about this place being bare-bones. Shit.”

Damara shrugged. “I spend most of my time out anyway.”

Latula leaned up against the counter in the kitchen. She put her hands to her head and groaned. “I keep hoping this will all just turn out to be another one of my dreams, you know?”

She did. Damara pushed past Latula into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of liquor from the counter. Without another word, she handed it to Latula, who pulled off the top and took a long swig of the throat-burning liquid. When she was finished, she passed the bottle to Damara.

“Fuck!” Latula said loudly. “This is all so…” She hit the counter with the palm of her hand, turned, and slumped down onto the kitchen floor.

“It’s all so _fucked!_ ” She was starting to cry. “It was never supposed to be like this! Even with the depot job – it was supposed to be clean and smooth – we were good at what we did!”

Damara took a long drink of the liquor – the taste was secondary to the numbing effect of the alcohol. Even if her body would quickly process it out, it was at least temporary relief.

“I was gonna tell Mituna about us!” Latula reached out and took the bottle. Another drink. She passed it back. “Was gonna tell him about what we did, because deep down I knew it was fine if I just said something. And then… everything happened and we got all… fucked up.”

Another swig of the soul-cleansing elixir. Another chance to forget. She handed it back to Latula.

“Mituna was always… he was always hurting. The worst I had was a bunch of bad dreams. How fair is that to compare? I figured… it didn’t matter. What did  _ any _ of it matter?” She took a  _ long _ drink and handed the bottle back. She started to sob.

“What the fuck was I _thinking?_ ” Latula asked around the sobs. “I’m red for  _ both _ of you and now you probably both hate the ever-loving shit outta me.”

Damara sat down on the floor next to Latula. She wished she had some chairs, but she honestly hadn’t considered the possibility of ever having company over. “I don’t hate you.”

Latula laughed. “Why?”

“I don’t hate you,” Damara said again. “And I don’t think Mituna hates you either. He’s had it rough in the last half-sweep, and they put him back into the Felt. Into the Deep Felt, I think.”

“Yeah.” Latula was nodding – she reached for the bottle and took yet another drink. They’d managed to get halfway through the bottle already. “That’s what happened. He looks at me but he’s not looking  _ at _ me, you know? He won’t eat and he barely sleeps and when he sleeps he mutters things that scare the shit outta me.”

She bent over and the sobbing got worse. Damara leaned into her – arms around her shoulders – in close. She could smell the alcohol heavy on Latula’s breath – she was already well on her way to being drunk.

“We’ll figure this out,” Damara said quietly. She’d been keeping pace with Latula as they worked their way through the bottle, but Damara couldn’t turn off the bio-mods that siphoned off the toxins in her blood. She was just about stone-sober. “We’ll talk to Mituna and we’ll get him whatever help he needs. And then we can all talk about – we can talk about whatever we’ve got here and figure this out.”

“Damara…” Latula looked up. “Damara… can you kiss me?”

She was drunk. Completely, utterly drunk. Damara put a hand behind Latula’s head and pulled her into her shoulder. “Shhh. Why don’t we go lie down for a bit, okay?”

“No…” Latula’s voice was pleading. “I wanna kiss… I love you…”

The liquor was taking hold, because she was rapidly getting less coherent.

“We shouldn’t do that right now,” Damara said calmly. “You’re getting really drunk.”

“No! I’m not drunk… I’m just…” Latula trailed off and smiled at Damara. “You’re _gorgeous._ ” She leaned heavily against Damara’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Silence for a moment – the passing of minutes without conversation filling the space in between. Damara was along with her thoughts, even when she wasn’t alone.

What happened to all of us?   
  
Did we ever even have a choice?

“Damara…” Latula muttered – she sounded both very sleepy and very drunk. “Do you… love me?”

Silence. A second. Two seconds. Three. A breath held, then released.

“Yes… I do.”

Damara felt the tears running down her cheeks as she sat on the floor of her kitchen holding Latula Pyrope and silently crying.


	32. Trauma

**Sweeps in the Past** **  
** **  
** The smell of cordite and blood and filth…

* * *

...and anti-septic and industrial cleaner…

* * *

...and burning and broken dreams.

* * *

**Half a Sweep Ago** **  
** **Olive District, North Alternian Capitol**   
  
Meulin and Latula came in from the rubble-strewn back alley to the bombed-out remains of the bakery. The bakery where they’d all met to plan before the ill-fated attack on the Alternian Fleet Depot. They’d chosen it because Meulin knew the olive blood who owned the place, and they owed Meenah a favor. Whatever the case, it wasn’t that important anymore. There wasn’t a bakery – there was only a ruin.   
  
“I’m sure they expected at least one of us to be here,” Latula said, quietly. She kicked a brick out of the way. “Either that or this was a message… or they just wanted to make sure their tracks were covered especially well.”   
  
“Who? The Legiscorpus?” Meulin shook her head – it didn’t make any sense.   
  
“Who else?!” Latula’s voice was loud and frustrated – ragged and on-edge. “It was Legiscorpus that hit us at the depot – fucking _Legislacerators!_ ”   
  
That was true, but also… it felt wrong. Something was nagging at the back of Meulin’s mind, but she couldn’t quite place it.   
  
“It was such a waste… there wasn’t even anything there to take.” Meulin sighed – the feeling wouldn’t go away, but she couldn’t quite put it into words. She watched as a ratbeast scampered out from under a pile of rubble holding a piece of bread that had somehow survived the blast.   
  
“It was a trap. They weren’t expecting us to fight so hard.” Latula shrugged and kicked another brick. “Legislacerators aren’t generally chosen for their subtlety.”   
  
But that felt _wrong_ too. Everything about this felt so goddamn _wrong._ The timing of when the rotary had appeared with the Legislacerators. The fact that the thing they were supposed to be stealing wasn’t there. Everything lined up so nicely – so perfectly in such a wrong way.   
  
“Have you talked to Damara since?” Meulin asked – she knew that the two of them had been red for each other. They were about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the knees about it. “I haven’t been able to get in touch.”   
  
Latula’s face looked sad – she stared hard at the ground. “Only a couple times. She’s… she’s not doing well. Rufioh… that hit hard, y’know.”   
  
Meulin knew. She hadn’t been there when it had happened – she’d pulled duty on overwatch as the best shot on the team – but she’d been there for the aftermath. Been there for the rust-slurry pooling in the bottom of the van and the smell of burnt gunpowder and brass and so much _blood._ She’d been there as Damara desperately tried to revive Rufioh but he was already way too far gone.   
  
“What are we supposed to do now?” Meulin asked. She looked over at Latula, carefully studying her response.   
  
“Legiscorpus will be looking for us. If they don’t already know who we are… they will soon. Mituna thinks there’s a way he can purge the data from their servers. At least that’d buy us some time.”   
  
It didn’t make any sense. Why would Legiscorpus bomb the building? As bad as they were, that wasn’t really their style. Why not just raid the place and take everyone to be interrogated? For that matter, why leave any of them alone?   
  
“Kurloz and I are going to get the fuck out of town,” Meulin said quietly. “He knows a place in the countryside that we can lay low for a while. It’s not like we don’t know how to disappear, so we’ll just wait for the heat to die down and then just… keep living.”   
  
It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all she had. From Latula’s expression, she didn’t think it sounded very impressive. Meulin shifted in place – she watched as a small pack of ratbeasts emerged after the first one, all of them fighting over the same piece of bread. They squabbled, bit, scratched… and finally one of them grabbed the bread and disappeared back into the charred rubble.   
  
“Fine,” Latula said at last. “We each do things our own way. I’m sure Aranea has some hole she can crawl into, and Meenah’s basically protected from on high, right?”   
  
“What about Damara?” Meulin saw Latula wince at that.   
  
“I… I don’t know, okay. I need to talk to Mituna about her and I and… you know. He’ll understand. He can help her too.” She kicked a chunk of rubble, startling another ratbeast that ran off with an angry _hiss._   
  
No matter what Latula had to say about Mituna finding a way to remove them from the Legiscorpus system, Meulin couldn’t help but feel like they were living on borrowed time. Everything about the job had gone wrong in a way that seemed like it was just the way that _someone_ wanted.   
  
It was just a question of _who._   
  
And _why._

* * *

**7th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Olive District, North Alternian Capitol**

When Meulin and Kurloz had left the Authority safehouse, the driver had taken them to a nondescript basement apartment in the Olive District. It was only a short distance from the bakery – the place that they’d all met half a sweep ago… the place that was now an ash-stained hole in the ground filled up with debris.

The driver had told them, in a voice that made it clear he was reciting something he’d memorized, that they should go inside and make themselves at home. Food would be delivered every day. They were free to leave at any time, but doing so would make it so their safety could no longer be guaranteed. And with that ominous statement, the driver looked around nervously, got in the car, and left them to their devices.

The apartment stunk like mildew and had a single, small bedroom with a pile of blankets that felt scratchy and thin. There was little furniture – a table and some chairs in the living room. And a table in the corner with a telNet terminal on it. The terminal was connected to a hardline coming from the wall, but it sat dark and their initial attempts to turn it on were unsuccessful.

So they’d sat for three days with nothing to do. They talked, they slept, they ate. Meulin spent a lot of time thinking – wondering back on the past. Her mind kept returning to the bakery. It was logical enough – there were so many echoes that kept spreading out into the future, like ripple from a stone tossed in a pond.

* * *

**Half a Sweep Ago** **  
** **Olive District, North Alternian Capitol**   
  
“Do we know what the objective actually _is?_ ” Damara asked. She and Rufioh were sitting together in the corner of the closed-down bakery, her legs propped up in Rufioh’s lap. Meulin was seated across from them.   
  
The others were all there, this time. The bakery wasn’t a hole in the ground yet – the ratbeasts were still at least hidden away.   
  
Aranea took out a glossy photograph and showed it to the group – a blocky metal case with a pair of handles on the side, stamped with the emblem of the Alternian Fleet.   
  
“Segmented encryption drives. There’s supposed to be two of them. The facility itself is heavily secured, but most of the defenses are passive or automated. That means it’ll be a tech job more than anything else.”   
  
“You mind tell us what the fuck the drives are being used for?” Mituna asked – he was in the corner near Rufioh, with Latula sitting on the other side of him. “I don’t like going in blind.”   
  
Rufioh nodded and raised his voice. “Yo, I gotta agree with ‘tuna here – this smells real weird. Like, we’re-walking-into-a-trap weird. You have details on the client?”   
  
Aranea glared at him, then at Mituna. “Look, who’s the one who sources the jobs? You let Meenah and me worry about the details. Also, the client specifically doesn’t want the drive function or contents known. That was part of the stipulations.”   
  
Meulin wasn’t overly familiar with the drives – her training in the Army had been on basic field-issue Felt wetware. She seemed to recall that segmented encryption drives had been mentioned as part of the Felt infrastructure in passing, but what they actually _did_ was another matter entirely. All she knew for sure is that they were powerful, expensive, and extremely illegal for civilians to have in their possession.   
  
“This still seems like a hella bad deal,” Rufioh had a deep frown. “Like, way above the smash-and-grab stuff we’re usually about, yeah?”   
  
He was right. Ironically, he was the one with the most experience with the heists – he’d been raised in the Alternian criminal underground and had been a journeyman in that world for sweeps. His philosophy was simple: rob the Alternian government. If anyone knew about the potential repercussions of this job, it was him.   
  
“Okay, so why don’t you enlighten us, Mr. Nitram.” Aranea’s voice was pitted with sarcastic barbs. “Did you spend three sweeps working for AIS too?”   
  
Rufioh shook his head. “I mean, no… of course not. But you know I been hitting these kind of jokers for sweeps. This kind of stuff always got a catch.”

* * *

**9th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Olive District, North Alternian Capitol**

The woman who delivered their food that day had bad news. Aranea had been killed five days before. The others were gathering later that day to pay their respects and, while Meulin and Kurloz were strongly discouraged from trying to attend, they were being told in case they wanted to be there in spirit.

The woman told them that it was Vriska who pulled the trigger. She left out any additional details, because she was a mouthpiece for Scratch and Scratch hadn’t wanted them to know more.

The food tasted like ashes in her mouth that morning, and she sat on the floor in the living room and stared into nothing, wondering what had happened.

Sister Kittybitch, what’s on your mind? Kurloz sat down next to her. 

Nothing about this makes any fucking sense! She slapped her hands together. Why would the Authority shoot Aranea?! And then, what, let them go? They’re gathering at the cemetery so they’re obviously not all dead.

Sister, we can’t know what happened. But maybe the Devil was right about the Authority.

Meulin scowled. I fucking hate the Empire, but this doesn’t make any sense!

She felt herself tearing up and covered her face with her hands – her world dark and silent. She felt Kurloz hugging her – she sighed.

What’re we supposed to do? She signed with a free hand and let herself be wrapped up in the embrace. She knew that he cared about her – cared about the others too – but it felt like he was losing sight of things. I’m worried about you.

Kurloz let her go and sat back so he could sign in return. Worried about me, sister? Why – I’m still feeling righteous.

No, you’re not. We’ve been together for a long time now – I know you’re not feeling okay. She reached out and put a hand on his arm – he started to pull away, looking hurt. 

Why would you say that?

Meulin tapped his arm. You call him the Devil. I’ve heard you talk about the Mirthful Messiahs plenty of times – how are you going to ally yourself with someone that opposed to what you believe in?

Because the Empire needs to be destroyed! Kurloz’s lip curled into a snarl that Meulin couldn’t hear. Even if it means… his hands stopped moving and his eyes turned down. I don’t know, Kittybitch – I just don’t know. I don’t feel like the Messiahs are listening anymore. Maybe they never were.

He was crying – Meulin couldn’t hear it, but she could see it. All they’d been through – all the violence and death they’d seen.

But maybe Kurloz less so than the others – he hadn’t come from the meat grinder that was the Alternian military service or the Legiscorpus. Maybe for him it had been even harder than the rest.

She leaned in and hugged him close, kissing him on the cheek. She saw his hands moving again –

Sister Aranea… I didn’t always agree with her, but she was still one of us. They fucking killed her. Shaking – he was shaking. I want… His hand stopped. 

Meulin hugged him tighter. When she let up, she signed again. I know how you feel, but don’t let it consume you! Trust me… I know how that feels.

It felt hypocritical to say – she’d agreed to form their crew so they could strike out against the system that had oppressed them. If they could hurt their oppressors and make enough money to actually live at the same time, then why not. But this was starting to feel like the kind of personal that got you killed – when you got so warped in your own quest for vengeance that it destroyed you.

Even though Scratch is right to want to hurt the Empire, there’s more here. He’s not like us… he wants something bigger, and.. Meulin thought for a minute – tried to think of how to put it. Honestly it scares me a lot.

She saw Kurloz laugh. Scares you? What in the world would scare YOU, Kittybitch?

I’m scared all the time. Scared because every time I close my eyes I’ll be right back somewhere I’d rather never go again. Scared because my friends are being manipulated and I’m not fucking smart enough to know how. Scared because I’m worried that I’m gonna lose you!

He shook his head. I’m not planning to get killed, Kittybitch!

That’s not what I mean and you know it.

She closed her eyes and leaned in to embrace Kurloz again. She sat there for a while, breathing softly and hoping that things wouldn’t get worse.

Hoping they wouldn’t… but knowing that they probably would.


	33. Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: This chapter includes slight references to self-harm via medication.

**10th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
****Gold District, North Alternian Capitol**

For Mituna, sleep was long in coming and short in the having. His head wouldn’t stop hurting now – he’d taken to grinding the headache pills up and mixing them with water to create a kind of paste that tasted foul but, in theory, acted quicker than waiting for the pills to digest. He had wanted to buy some of the better drugs from his usual supplier, but he noticed the Legiscorpus tail as soon as the Authority turned him loose. They were always watching – Mituna had run down to the end of the proverbial dead-end alley and now they were going to be on him forever.

There was too much happening – the last half-sweep had been a nightmare of confusion and pain. The incident with the wetware – _both_ incidents with the wetware – and now with Aranea being murdered by the Authority. Scratch appeared, did whatever he needed to do, and now he was lost into the void. Mituna had looked for him, but the traces had all run cold.

Damara had told him about Kanaya’s theory – that Scratch was an artificial intelligence. It would explain so much about him – why he did everything through intermediaries… his eerie ability to navigate the Felt… his seeming omniscience when it came to scanning security. But no one had any real theory as to how an AI had become so self-aware and powerful in the first place.

It didn’t even matter to Mituna. He already felt like he was running on borrowed time, and the constant thrum of pressure and pain under the temples wasn’t doing him any favors.

Now he was alone with his thoughts. He’d had another discussion with Latula before they went to pay their respects to Aranea… a _loud_ discussion with Latula. He was feeling increasingly _angry_ that she hadn’t come to him about Damara. And while he could almost understand her reasoning in one part of his mind, another part of his mind simply didn’t give a shit. That part seemed to be taking up more and more space lately.

In the cold light of the dim season’s early morning, Mituna sat by himself and wondered where everything had gone wrong. It seemed like the last time they’d been truly happy was before the Fleet depot job. Maybe _happy_ was stretching the truth a bit, but _happier_ at least. They were a crew of once-broken people who had a chance to stop being broken, at least in some sense of the word.

Scratch came along and ruined that dream…

Was that strictly _true?_ Was it Scratch, or was it their own collective damage that had caused this downfall? Maybe Scratch’s manipulation had been the catalyst, but it seemed that the seeds of that destruction had been planted long before. Planted in the fertile soil cultivated by the Empire’s relentless need for fresh bodies for the forever wars in the various colony worlds.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore – didn’t want to think about anything. It hurt too much.

Mituna turned in the pile and groaned. Was it time for more of the disgusting headache-paste? He couldn’t remember.

It’s not over yet…

Why? Why was it the only thing he couldn’t get out of his mind? The only thing that kept cutting right through the haze and the pain? The sense that he was missing something important.

In the corner of the room, the dead-end terminal beckoned.

* * *

Mituna sat in front of the dead-end terminal – a telNet terminal with no telNet connection, but a custom-designed rig intended to fool the system into thinking it had access to the outside world. There was a diskette still sitting in the drive. A copy of the diskette that Aranea had given him. Scratch’s incentives and information disk.

Fighting the pain back, Mituna struggled to think. This was what Scratch had _wanted_ them to see. The collection of information that was supposed to lure them in. The last time he’d looked at it, they’d all been working under a different set of parameters.

The terminal whirred to life and the menu appeared.

He knew now that most of the information was a smokescreen – a combination of technically accurate data on the building and outright lies designed to enable the trap that Scratch had set. The security was detailed down to the smallest element – right up until the part where it conveniently didn’t mention the military security measures that were installed. The objective – the data disk – was explained in terms that were as meaningful as a FLARP quest now. The disk didn’t exist – the whole thing was fake.

The real objective was to lure out the Authority.

But somehow… that didn’t feel right either. It didn’t match the circumstances. Scratch had been behind the depot job. That meant he was planning this for more than a half-sweep. Luring out the Authority didn’t make sense because they were already an open secret. Everyone knew they were out there, just not precisely where or how much influence they actually had.

Okay, so he’s an AI… sure, let’s fucking go with it. Approach this logically… like a program… 

What was the objective? Luring the Authority out didn’t make sense. And Scratch had infiltrated the systems in the Fleet R&D center too… and then left. Why would someone _do_ that?

He wanted something from them.

A spike of pain in his head – Mituna groaned and bent forward. It was like his brain was being throttled and he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight.

What did Scratch _want?_ Was that the right word? It felt too personal – too Alternian. Scratch wasn’t Alternian.

What did Scratch _need?_ It was like the pieces were bouncing around but he couldn’t quite fit them together. Encrypted data drives from the Fleet depot. Important enough that two teams had been sent in – the focus put onto their crew so that the actual theft wouldn’t be scrutinized as closely. Access to the Fleet R&D systems. If Scratch had accessed anything, the Authority wasn’t telling any of them. That Kanaya woman would know – but she wasn’t going to talk to him.

Should’ve poked around when I had the chance…

It was a dead-end to think about, and it made the pain worse to consider. Maybe look at it from a different angle… what had Scratch given them to try to convince them all to work for him? Maybe there was some common thread that could be pulled out.

He tapped the first key – Aranea Serket. The _late_ Aranea Serket. That stabbed at Mituna’s gut. He didn’t know that he’d been willing to call her his _friend,_ but he certainly respected Aranea and he liked working with her.

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ ARANEA SERKET: │   
│ │   
│ A half-sweep ago you sustained serious injuries due to an incident │   
│ involving Felt wetware. At this point, to use the wetware again │   
│ would most likely be fatal. I know how much you miss the experience│   
│ of being in the Felt. I can give you that opportunity again. │   
│ │   
│ Due to your past with the AIS and your involvement in the Fleet │   
│ depot job, you are now blacklisted from receiving any medical care │   
│ that would enable you to use the Felt again. You owe the AIS and │   
│ the Empire a debt, both for your service and for your various │   
│ indiscretions over the sweeps. │   
│ │   
│ While they are not unaware of you, they could be MADE unaware, to │   
│ some extent. Certain systems could be adjusted, and certain key │   
│ people made to come around. │   
│ │   
│ If you complete this job, I will ensure that your debts will be │   
│ wiped clean. You will have a chance to undergo the procedures │   
│ required to Felt dive again, giving you the chance to once again │   
│ experience that rush of information that you so love. │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

It was straightforward – simple. Aranea was in a bad way with Alternian Intelligence and Scratch would help her out. Mituna didn’t doubt that he had that ability, at least. It had ended badly, but he didn’t think her death had necessarily been part of Scratch’s plan. His attitude seemed to be more a casual disregard for Alternian life rather than a need to destroy it.

There were additional documents as Mituna paged through the screen – evidence of what Aranea had been up to. Information about the Fleet depot job. Enough to convince her that Scratch was telling the truth. Enough to convince her that ignoring him would be dangerous.

Mituna hadn’t reviewed his own incentives file, because he had been sure of what it contained. But now…

Maybe I missed something…

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ MITUNA CAPTOR: │   
│ │   
│ You already know what I’m going to say – you are being watched by │   
│ Legiscorpus and the Authority. They know about your attempt to │   
│ Felt-bomb their servers. Sadly for you, the servers were much │   
│ better defended than you thought. In fact, they specifically │   
│ planned for your crew to attempt this very thing. You are on │   
│ the Authority’s watch list now, and they will use this as │   
│ leverage when the time suits them. │   
│ │   
│ I have ways to make them stop. Both to remove the items from │   
│ their systems and to ensure that any Alternian assets assigned │   
│ will have incentive to leave you alone. │   
│ │   
│ I know you’ve been living with Ms. Pyrope – this would give you │   
│ both the opportunity to live a life FREE of the influence of │   
│ your past! │   
│ │   
│ As a small gesture of good will, I have included the information │   
│ that proves the tasking of the Legislacerators as a separate │   
│ item. You may have already reviewed it, in which case you know │   
│ that I am telling the truth about this. │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

It was vague… everything Scratch wrote was vague. It had the air of a promise that could change your life, but there was something decidedly _off_ about it. As if the promise came with a catch.

More evidence attached to this one – tasking logs and security reports. Data that was supposed to have been destroyed, but was staring at him from out of the blank behind-space of the screen.

The only common element so far was the implication of considerable influence both over computer systems and actual people. This was, as far as they’d seen, not an idle claim. But how did Scratch get such power? It still didn’t make sense.

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ MEULIN LEIJON: │   
│ │   
│ Mituna or Aranea, I know you’re the ones reading this. Ms. Leijon │   
│ seems disinclined to use the telNet systems after her experiences │   
│ in the Colony Wars. │   
│ │   
│ Meulin is haunted by flashbacks of her time in the war – this can │   
│ be confirmed by her annual government-mandated check-ins with the │   
│ local Army clinic. They will, of course, do nothing to actually │   
│ help her. │   
│ │   
│ I offer the opportunity to set her free – enough money that she │   
│ will be able to afford whatever kind of private treatment she │   
│ wants. To flee to whatever colony she desires. │   
│ │   
│ However she chooses to deal with her problems, the stipend of a │   
│ former Army sergeant is hardly sufficient. I can easily change │   
│ that for her. │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

That was simplistic – Scratch simply offering to buy Meulin off. But, in a way, Mituna supposed it would work. Meulin had a support system – himself and Kurloz, mainly – but she lacked the money needed to really get any kind of substantive help. Running jobs hadn’t exactly been great for her mental state. So this was an easy out for her – one job, then she could go relax somewhere she never had to think about falling concussion bombs or a trench full of bodies ever again.

There was nothing attached to Meulin’s file – it wasn’t important for Scratch to establish how he knew what he knew about her. She wouldn’t be reading it, and he’d already established with Aranea and Mituna that he was capable.

Mituna wasn’t sure he wanted to check the next file – didn’t know that he wanted to think about her just then. But he needed to see it, because this was more important than how he felt about Latula right now.

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ LATULA PYROPE: │   
│ │   
│ Once you’re in the Legiscorpus, you’re never really OUT of the │   
│ Legiscorpus. Not only did you and Mituna not succeed in removing │   
│ the evidence of your past crimes, you have now attracted the │   
│ attention of the Authority. One day, they will decide you are │   
│ useful to them. They will come to you with an offer. │   
│ │   
│ You won’t have a choice in the matter. │   
│ │   
│ Plainly put, I can set you and Mituna free. Remove the evidence │   
│ and ensure the people involved aren’t an issue anymore. │   
│ │   
│ You and your matesprit can be free. │   
│ │   
│ Well, as free and YOU want anyway. Whether you choose to reveal │   
│ that last little bit of information is up to you, I suppose. │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

It stung to read it – because he was still feeling raw over the lie. And beyond that, it was just the same thing as his own file. Scratch had the power to set them free. Scratch could make all the bad things go away from the past. He could wipe their debts clean.

The tasking logs attached were the same as the ones in Mituna’s file. That made sense – they had been living together for a while and Legiscorpus was watching both of them. There was some additional material from Latula’s file from her days as a Legiscorpus enforcer – evaluations and separation forms that made it abundantly clear that they always had the option of calling her back if the need arose.

If they complied, they would all be free of this. As free as _he_ wanted them to be.

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ DAMARA MEGIDO: │   
│ │   
│ Another one I’m certain won’t be read by the subject. I understand │   
│ she is quite the low-tech gal these days. No matter. │   
│ │   
│ Damara’s body is destroying itself. The Alternian Army wasn’t │   
│ especially concerned with ensuring the long-term viability of its │   
│ rust blood commando units, and she is suffering accordingly. │   
│ Within two to five sweeps, she will likely be dead. │   
│ │   
│ I know she doesn’t want to die, for a number of reasons. I’m │   
│ offering the chance for her to live. I can provide access to │   
│ medical care that will ensure her bio-modifications are stabilized │   
│ and she is able to live a long, full life. │   
│ │   
│ She feels a strange kind of guilt over the death of her former │   
│ matesprit – the kind where she feels she must live the fullest │   
│ life possible to honor his memory. This is a noble, if misguided, │   
│ sentiment. │   
│ │   
│ In any case, I can help her achieve it. │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

More material promises – things that required access to considerable resources. It tracked with what Scratch had been able to do, but it didn’t provide any more of a singular element beyond those resources and the fact that these were incentives that, if actually provided, would be life-changing.

Damara’s file was sparse – only the letter and nothing more. Like with Meulin, this was intended for the benefit of Aranea and Mituna. They were the ones who would have to convince her that this was real, and she would make the decision about whether or not it was worth it. Apparently it had been – Mituna felt guilty for whatever part he played in that.

Mituna groaned to himself. He wanted to crawl back onto the pile – the light of the terminal burned his eyes. Just two more to go…

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ KURLOZ MAKARA: │   
│ │   
│ I have already contacted Mr. Makara to explain the situation. │   
│ │   
│ He believes in false gods and clings to hope that is completely │   
│ unearned. │   
│ │   
│ I can provide for the people he cares most deeply about, and I can │   
│ open his eyes to the true nature of the world. │   
│ │   
│ Beyond that, you have nothing to worry about re: Mr. Makara. │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
│ │   
╘════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╛

This one was… ominous. There was no additional material at all.

Maybe Scratch had been manipulating him by breaking him out of the safehouse, or maybe Kurloz just saw a way out and took it. There was no way to tell.

Mituna was afraid for Kurloz. He was large and intimidating, but ultimately he was peaceful and easygoing. Scratch seemed like the kind of… person? Being? Scratch seemed like he would take that kind of person and utterly destroy them. Mituna wished that Kurloz would reach out – he missed him and Meulin so much. He was so worried.

He pushed through the pain that was still building.

Last one…

* * *

╒════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╕   
│ │   
│ MEENAH PEIXES: │   
│ │   
│ /9xS&tFM?2D[d{jQn: F4.Y{!%[;%)P<j+|vDp%g&6vc>qw6_o │   
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Mituna looked up from the screen. He had attached a monitor as part of this setup that checked for attempts at sending data via the telNet setup. As soon as he opened Meenah’s file, it began to light up. That was very interesting.

The pain in his head was still nearly overwhelming, but there was something else swimming just underneath it. Mituna felt strangely betrayed. This wasn’t some opportunistic grab – this was a specifically targeted plan that had been sweeps in the making. Whoever or whatever Scratch was, he had hand-picked them all for this job. He had strategically given them information that fed right into their expectations.

He had manipulated them from the very beginning – before they were even aware of it.

Mituna felt like grabbing the terminal and smashing it, but that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he let his custom rig run – gathering data for analysis. Whatever Scratch had been trying to do, he was going to find out.


	34. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: This chapter contains discussion of suicide and suicidal ideation.

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Rust District, North Alternian Capitol**

The first night in Damara’s apartment had been spent passed-out drunk on the pile while Damara slept on the floor. She hadn’t said anything – just smiled the next morning and produced a large glass of water and some painkillers.

The second night Latula wasn’t even a little bit drunk and they’d slept together on the pile.  _ Slept _ in this case being a mostly-euphemistic term, at least for the first half hour or so.

And the morning after that – how was she feeling?

Latula wasn’t sure anymore. There was still a part of her that regretted how things had been happening, but she wasn’t sure how much that part of her mattered right now. Mituna had been pretty clear about his feelings. And she saw his point, but that was a hoofbeast that had also run out of the barn and disappeared over the hills long ago.

She groaned and turned over on the pile, bumping into Damara, who grunted softly. Dim season morning light wasn’t really the kind of thing that  _ streamed _ in so much as _crawled._ The apartment was awash in the late-morning half-light and Latula realized that she’d slept without the dreams for once.

So I just need to get laid every night for the rest of my life, I guess.

It was a coincidence, but she still let herself smile at that thought. There’d been enough pain and death in the last half-sweep that she figured that one indulgence wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Damara muttered in her sleep and turned over – Latula sat up and looked at her, then smiled. She reached out and softly traced a line along Damara’s shoulder, down her arm. There were scars there, of course, running along the side of her shoulder, down to her back. Something that Damara hadn’t talked about before. Because she didn’t talk about a lot of what had happened to her before they’d met, and that was fine. Sometimes it helped to talk. Sometimes it didn’t.

* * *

By early afternoon, they were both up and sitting together on the floor in the middle of the apartment. Neither of them was much in the mood for going out, so they ended up heating up leftover takeout and eating off paper plates on the floor. Neither woman was saying much – they had a lot of their minds, but sometimes the weight of those thoughts made moving them into the realm of speech difficult.

It was Damara who broke the silence. “I could’ve fucking stopped her.”

She didn’t need to say  _ who _ she meant – Latula already knew.

“I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t… I didn’t see it coming.” Damara balled up a fist and punched into her thigh. “Fuck.”

Latula reached out and put a hand on the same thigh. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know that!” Damara snapped back – Latula withdrew and Damara’s face softened. “I’m sorry, just… she’d still be alive. This all feels so fucked-up. Been a couple weeks… feels like a fucking sweep.” She grit her teeth.

Latula put her hand back and nodded. “Yeah, it does.”

“You ever think that maybe things could’ve been different for you? You had options… you could’ve gone into the law division… gone into the administration… maybe…”

Latula sighed. “Not really. My lusus died when I was a wiggler, so I ended up in the Imperial state homes. It was… it was fine. They took care of me. But they also expect certain things from you – teal bloods… they send a lot of us into Legiscorpus or specialized Fleet training. I pulled Legiscorpus and that was basically it.”

Her chest felt tight. Why did her chest feel tight?

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t get much of an option. I grew up in the state homes too, and by the time I was old enough for placement they needed folks for one of the Colony Wars, so I ended up in the Army.”

Latula didn’t think she’d ever talked about her experience in the Army before, beyond the basics. Latula knew Damara had been a commando, and that she’d seen some bad stuff, but that was about as specific as she’d ever been.

“I joined the Commandos because they told me I’d be able to be stronger… live longer… all that good stuff. Growing up in the state homes, I always felt like I wasn’t good enough. So some jade blood comes along and tells me I can do better… just sign the papers.”

The feeling in her chest wasn’t going away – this was sounding an awful lot like the sales pitch for entering the Legislacerator training.  _ Be the best Alternian you can be! _

Damara looked… scared. She looked  _ scared _ and it was freaking Latula out a little bit because why did she look scared?! The woman who danced right into the fire with a smile on her face!

“Did I ever tell you that I’m dying?”

Latula stared at her.

She misheard. Clearly.

“What?” It was all she could think to say. Damara smiled – surprisingly softly.

“Army wasn’t very concerned with that whole  _ live longer _ part of the deal. Bio-mods are… they’re shutting down. Eventually I’ll be dead.” She shrugged, as if this was just a matter of course – a random topic of conversation.

There was a hot poker inside of her chest that wanted to get out! She didn’t even mean to, but she started sobbing. Without another word, she leaned in and put her arms around Damara, sinking into her lap.

“Why?!” Sobbing – a complete mess.

Why does everyone I love keep getting picked apart like this?!

“There has to be something you can do, right?” She could hear the raw desperation in her voice.

“Scratch claimed he knew someone who could stabilize the bio-mods… I guess he might’ve been telling the truth.”

“I don’t want you to die!” Latula cried into Damara’s shoulder, awkwardly clinging to her.

“I… I don’t either,” Damara responded softly. “I think maybe there was a time when I did. Right before I left the Army… I kept thinking about how easy it would be. Any time we were deployed we had loaded guns…”

She smiled. “It would’ve been easy.”

Silence. And her face changed – she frowned and looked off to the side. “I got out and I just kind of existed for a while. I tried to fill that up with something… and it never really helped. But I met Rufioh and he introduced me to Aranea and… I think he gave me something to ground myself. I didn’t want to die anymore.”

Latula scooted closer to Damara, practically sitting in her lap. The rust blood ran her hands through Latula’s hair.

“Then I met you too. I didn’t talk about what I’d been through in the Army because I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to. It was bad and I’ll never forget it. I wish I could but… it’s not like that. But I still don’t want to die anymore. I got so afraid of it that… what Scratch promised sounded like a good deal. Even after the depot.”

She stopped talking and closed her eyes, leaning into Latula. Her breathing was soft – measured – and calm.

“How… much longer?” Latula asked – she didn’t know that she wanted to hear the answer.

Damara sighed. “I don’t know. A couple sweeps? Three? Four? Until my body decides it’s going to shut down and then… that’s it. Maybe it’ll be quick, maybe not. Depends on what decides to break first, I guess.”

And she said it so matter-of-factly. Because this wasn’t something new to her – it was something she’d known for sweeps. Well before she left the Army, she’d known that she had inherited a death sentence. So she had come to terms with the fact that she had limited options – either she could decide the time, place, and manner of her death or she could ride things out and hope that she’d be given the chance to spent a few more moments with her loved ones before the timer her body was on finally ran out. And maybe she’d finally made peace with that fact.

What choice did she have?   
  
What choice did any of us have?


	35. Depression

**Half a Sweep Ago** **  
** **Assigned Government Housing District 8D, North Alternian Capitol**   
  
“Crony’s an ass, but he’s not stupid,” Meenah said, the irritation starting to show in her voice. Aranea was looking at her like she didn’t know what she was talking about again, and it was pissing her off. “He’s not gonna take some cut-rate job and not check things out first.”   
  
Aranea didn’t look like she was buying it – she didn’t trust Cronus. To be fair, Meenah didn’t trust Cronus either. His loyalties started and ended with whoever was paying him the most money. Although he didn’t double-back on a job once he’d presented it – that was bad for business, after all. Meenah wasn’t going to lie and say that the idea of raiding and Alternian Fleet depot didn’t put her on edge, but Cronus had the contacts to make it happen.   
  
“Shit, I get it,” Meenah reached out and took Araneas’s hand – the cerulean blood smiled at her and blushed. “We’ve been doing this shit for a half-sweep now! Cronus has come through on jobs in the past – bitch, we’ve got this!”   
  
Aranea nodded. “Yeah… I guess.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced.

* * *

**10th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Jade District, North Alternian Capitol**

Porrim was pressed up against the wall of the apartment – she was smiling, but her eyes were uncertain. “You’re grieving. You’ll regret this in the morning.”

“Of course I’m fucking grieving.” Meenah leaned forward, closed her eyes. “Shut up and fucking kiss me before I change my fucking mind.”

Porrim leaned into it and their lips touched and Meenah… didn’t feel anything. She wanted so badly for this to work, but it just… wasn’t…

* * *

...wasn’t worth worrying about. They’d clean it up later.   
  
The blueprints and notes were scattered haphazardly on the floor. They hadn’t started out that way, but the neat pile had been swept off the table at random when Meenah had shoved Aranea down onto the table… and they’d had sex there. Then that had moved onto the floor, further disrupting the state of things. When they finished, they lay there together, half-naked and breathing heavily.

Meenah would never admit it out loud, but she’d been worth losing everything for. It was fine to dally around with the lower bloods. That kind of thing was accepted –  _ expected _ even – of the high bloods. What wasn’t allowed under any circumstances was to choose to cleave to someone of a lower caste – to be their matesprit or kismesis in a way that made them something more than a throw-away. She could keep most of the money she’d saved, but she would forever be an outcast from the society she’d been hatched into.

She would live for hundreds of sweeps robbed of any sense of relevancy.   
  
Unless, of course, she chose to make her own. Maybe that was what had attracted her to the former spy who talked about making her own mark on the inside of the injustice that was the Alternian Empire. Maybe she liked the idea of tearing down the Empire she was hatched into, bit-by-bit.   
  
Meenah ran her hands over the grub scars on Aranea’s side, blue…

* * *

...no – green in the light of the bedroom. Meenah touched the scar, then ran her hand up along Porrim’s side to the start of one of the tattoos that ran all along her body. They’d kissed, then they were up against the wall, then down on the floor and on top of each other. Then again, on top of the pile set up in Porrim’s bedroom. Softer… less urgent…

And Meenah didn’t feel anything. She tried to throw herself into it – to absorb herself in the physical act of it. It certainly  _ felt _ good enough. Physically. But when Meenah stopped and thought honestly to herself, it felt like they were both just going through the motions. Like they both thought they could chase their individual grief away if they were passionate enough.

Meenah wanted it to be true more than anything. To be able to feel  _ anything _ in place of the horrible, gaping emptiness that was yawning inside of her. She hated it. Hated feeling vulnerable and afraid. Hated feeling like she’d actually had the audacity to  _ care _ about someone for once and then…

* * *

…any objection she had died in her throat. Meenah couldn’t think of a specific reason why the plan _wouldn’t_ work, but it seemed like something was going to go wrong.   
  
Aranea smoothed out the diagram of the depot, now back in its place on the table. Aranea had her clothes mostly back on – she adjusted her still-crooked glasses and cleared her throat.   
  
“Anyway, moving on with the planning session.” She looked over at Meenah, who smirked back at her.   
  
“You started it, bitch.”   
  
“That isn’t even a little bit true,” Aranea replied – she blushed and looked flustered.   
  
“ _Anyway!_ We’ve got stuff to sort out. Cronus provided a lot of information on this one. Mituna and I will be going into the Felt to deal with electronic security. We’ll have to be close to the site for this to work, so you’ll stay back and coordinate everyone.”   
  
It was what Meenah expected – it was a good plan. A plan with as few moving parts as possible, and a high degree of flexibility. They would be able to get in quickly, get out quickly, and in the end…

* * *

...she was just  _ gone _ and there was nothing Meenah could do about it. Aranea didn’t die in her arms, calling out her name in anguish. She died in a nowhere place and it would be covered up just like everything she’d done in life. It disgusted Meenah – she’d seen the way that the Empire ran on the inside. The excess and greed that drove her fellow highbloods. She wasn’t sure if she fell in love with Aranea first, or if she just hated what she was a part of so much that the chance to burn even some small part of it appealed to her and that drove her relationship.

She didn’t love Porrim. She’d just met the woman and they’d both decided that some grief sex would be a good idea. As far as Meenah was concerned, it had been a mixed bag. It certainly felt good in the moment, but then the hollow empty swept back in and she was so utterly  _ alone _ again.

Meenah sat up and padded onto the floor of the apartment. It was nice – comfortable and simply furnished. Porrim was a big fan of paintings, apparently – canvases of abstract shapes and colors that seemed to dance along the walls, each one somehow tying into the theme of the last while looking completely different.

Porrim was looking at her. “You do realize I’m not a complete fool, right?”

Meenah turned to look at Porrim, scowling.

“I mean, I know you aren’t feeling wonderful about what just happened between us.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t take offense, but I am curious as to why. I feel that I’ve earned the right to at least ask.”

She could ask all she wanted, but Meenah didn’t feel even a little bit obligated to tell her shit. But she felt herself softening – why not? Why not let this woman she’d only recently met some intimately personal information about her inner feelings. What could possibly go wrong?

“I miss Aranea and I feel like a piece of shit for everything that happened. And I feel like a piece of shit for not missing her  _ more _ or something. Because I’m not sitting here crying my eyes out, and because we just finished fucking.”

“We all process things in our own way,” Porrim said, sounding sad. “I may understand more directly than you might imagine.”

“What – you girlfriend get shot in the head too?” Meenah couldn’t possibly hide the bitterness in her voice.

“No.” Still sad. “She was conveniently re-assigned to one of the colony worlds where she would be statistically more likely to be killed.”

Because of Scatch. The other side of the coin, the…

* * *

...client wanted something very specific. The segmented encryption drives weren’t something Meenah had been familiar with, but both Aranea and Mituna had been suitably impressed that she knew it was important.   
  
Meenah picked up the small packet of paper from the table and glared at it.   
  
“You gonna give me the short version of this?” she asked.   
  
“The short version,” Aranea said, taking the packet from Meenah’s hands, “is that the drives are able to provide for a kind of distributed storage that’s very unique. Calling them a _drive_ isn’t even really accurate – they’re almost like a secure computing environment in a box.”   
  
She flipped through the pages. “One of their unique features is a kind of rudimentary networking capability using the Felt itself – eliminating the need for telNet hardlines. It’s… I don’t understand the technical stuff.” Aranea shrugged – it wasn’t especially important.

“So what would someone want with it?” Meenah was having a hard time letting this go. Even though Cronus was the one who brought it to them and she’d assured Aranea that it was a legitimate job, there was something that still didn’t quite sit right.   
  
“Some kind of advanced networking, maybe? Some sort of spy program? It’s hard to say – there’s a lot of potential applications.”   
  
She was, as usual, right about these things. And that was what was bothering Meenah – the hideously _open-ended_ nature of the whole thing. Usually it was easy to figure out what a job was about… mainly because the job was usually about money. And money made people predictable – it gave things a sense of consistency that was easy to track in its banal, boorish simplicity. Meenah liked when she was able to predict things – to anticipate the outcomes.   
  
This seemed different. Because this didn’t sound like something you could just unload on the black market or chop up for scrap. This seemed like something that you _used_ and… for what?   
  
Meenah reached out and took Aranea’s hand – a gesture so soft and gentle she could hardly believe she was the one doing it.   
  
Oh god… I _care_ about her.   
  
I actually _love_ her.   
  
Aranea smiled and shook her head. “Look, I know… there’s something that feels weird about this to me too. Someone knows exactly what they want this for, but they’re also willing to pay a lot to get it. And it’s a job we can do. We just need to be careful. By the book, don’t take risks. We all come back alive!”   
  
Meenah smiled back, and the thought came again…

* * *

I don’t love her.

Of course not. They’d had sex a couple times because they were both lonely and in pain and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But the thought still stabbed at her – hit her in a soft spot she didn’t even realize she had.

“I’m sorry,” Meenah said, not quite sure why the words were coming out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

I’ll never love her. It’s not like that.

It wasn’t a good thought or a bad thought – it was simply a thought. A passing observation of the truth that came and went unbidden and unappreciated beyond in its simple act of _being._ Because Meenah was sure she wasn’t going to love someone else. That was something she struggled with – feeling that kind of vulnerability. Something in what she had with Aranea had put a crack in that armor, but now it was patched up. The crack was gone, and only the hard steel of detachment remained.

Meenah sighed.

The hardline phone in Porrim’s apartment blasted its harsh mechanical ringer out into the silence. Porrim got up and walked over to the phone, picking up the receiver.

“Yes, who is this?” she asked, her voice curt. She waited a minute and her eyes narrowed.

“Yes, she’s here.” Without saying another word, she handed the phone to Meenah.

“Who the fuck is this?” Meenah felt like if she had to deal with one more piece of bullshit, she was going to completely snap. “This better be fucking good, bitch – do you have any idea what time it is?!”

Mituna: I don’t care what time it is, you need to get your ass over here ASA-fucking-P.   
Mituna: I found something you need to see.

Meenah shook her head – confusion was washing over her.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mituna: Oh fucking hell – pull your head out of your ass, Peixes, and get over here!   
Mituna: I can’t say more over the phone.

The line went dead with a loud  _ click _ and Meenah stared at the receiver in her hands, as if it would suddenly provide her with more answers.

“Get dressed,” she said to Porrim. “I get the feeling this is gonna apply to you too.”


	36. Anger

**9th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Olive District, North Alternian Capitol**

He was going to stare into that amber-tinted void until something changed. Even if it was only the smallest flicker of the dead screen – there was nothing else to do with his time. Meulin was napping in the corner, trying to skip the time ahead as she waited for nothing to happen. Kurloz didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t lie down either. It felt like something in the screen was waiting for him. It was waiting, and at some point it would speak.

Kurloz wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but the certainty was almost too much to bear. So he looked ahead into that dim world and waited.

For hours, he waited. And then the terminal blinked once.

? < It is time, Mr. Makara.   
? < If you would be so kind as to wake Ms. Leijon from her slumber.   
? < I’ll wait.

And somehow, Kurloz wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He walked over and shook Meulin gently – she came awake with a start and thrashed up in the pile.

What the fuck? she signed frantically. What is it?!

Kurloz put a hand on her shoulder and gestured at the screen. He’s speaking.

Shaking her head frantically, Meulin’s eyes narrowed. No. No, I’m not doing this. Not after everything.

I don’t think we have a choice, Kittybitch. Kurloz’s mouth drooped into a frown and Meulin reached out to grab his hand. 

That’s not true! she signed with her free hand. We’ve always got a choice. YOU’VE always got a choice.

He shook his head. No, this is just the natural order of things. Maybe I was wrong about the Messiahs, but not about this part. My path… it lies in tearing this corrupt order to the ground.

You can believe that and not team up with the fucking Devil!

He wasn’t sure if she would understand him. Kurloz had been raised into a world where violence was completely unacceptable. The Mirthful Messiahs abhorred such vulgar displays of hatred. And yet they were allowed to exist within Alternian society. Were, in fact, given a tremendous amount of freedom to worship and proselytize and convert others as they saw fit. Not because the Empire saw even the slightest shred of value in the beliefs of the church, but because its followers were docile, useful fools who would preach against the violence on the colony worlds and never lift a finger to stop it.

Kurloz knew what he wanted. He wanted to burn it to the ground. Wanted to smash the Empire that had hurt and killed so many that he cared about. He hadn’t known Meulin and Mituna from before their time in the military, but he saw how they were now. The haunted way they saw the world. The way that Meulin got a far-off look in her eyes and she was back there – back on the colony world she’d been told was populated almost entirely by terrorists. Back in the mud and the sludge of her dead comrades-in-arms.

He saw Mituna’s face when he thought no one was looking – the way that his vision went distant and looked past reality into the spaces beyond. Kurloz knew that he hadn’t been like that before. Not until his time in the Fleet and then… then he would never again be the same.

Without saying anything else to Meulin, Kurloz walked to the terminal.

KM > We’re here.   
? < Good. There is a place for both of you, if you want it.

Kurloz glanced back at Meulin, who was scowling.

KM > We don’t trust you, Devil.   
? < Then why bother responding to me at all?   
KM > Because they deserve to pay at least as much as you do.   
? < Ever the opportunist – I like that about you.   
? < I just needed to know if you were planning on being cooperative.   
? < An associate will be there shortly – please wait for her.

The terminal blinked off again, as suddenly as it had come to life, and Kurloz looked back at Meulin again. She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

I know I’m not gonna convince you not to. It still feels like a bad idea. Her hands danced and her face was a picture of hurt. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I thought we were going to get out of all this? I thought we were all gonna move on. “One last job and we’re out” kind of thing, right?

* * *

The three of them were sitting around a table at the back of the bakery – Kurloz, Meulin, and Mituna. Huddled in close, talking in low voices even though there wasn’t anyone around to hear them.

“This doesn’t feel a little bit odd to any of you?” Mituna asked, keeping his voice down. “Segmented encryption drives? That’s hardcore Fleet tech. No one is gonna buy it. Something stinks about this job.”

“Sister Aranea was most clear about it – she says it’s all good. If the good sister feels the Messiahs speak through her on this one, then I trust her.” Kurloz smiled. He knew that Aranea didn’t believe in the Messiahs, but they could still speak through her.

Meulin shook her head. “I don’t know, I’m kind of on board with ‘tuna on this one. This is getting one of those _too good to be true_ kind of vibes, y’know?”

She was right, but Kurloz pushed that thought back down. There was no sense entertaining that kind of negativity, because the Mirthful Ones had a plan. They _always_ had a plan and it was Kurloz’s job to trust in it and see it through. This job, like all the others, was part of the plan.

* * *

I know. I’m sorry, Kittybitch… this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was–  he paused, his hands frozen in mid-air as he searched for the words – I was lied to.

Meulin laughed, but she looked like she was about to cry. We were ALL lied to! We were all told all these great things about the Empire and how much it means to everyone and maybe we bought it… or maybe we just didn’t have any other choice. Fuck. She gritted her teeth.

They deserve to pay for all of this.

Of course they do. But who comes in after? Scratch? Have you been paying attention?! Do you see how much power he’s starting to wield?!

Of course he saw it – you’d have to be willfully ignorant not to see how the Devil was able to manipulate and control – to move in the spaces of the Felt and the digital and accomplish the seemingly impossible. To bend the wills of people using manipulation and control. He was, in many ways, the same as the Empire.

There was a loud knock on the door and Kurloz looked up sharply – that drew Meulin’s attention.

What is it?

Someone’s here – the Devil’s agent, probably.

Kurloz opened the door to the basement apartment to see a woman standing there dressed in a crimson red suit. Her black hair was long, falling in heavy coils around her face, and her horns curled inward. She wasn’t smiling.

“Kurloz Makara?” That was a cold voice – a voice that had seen the inside of the grave before. Kurloz got the same sense he did when Mituna fell into the worst of his void-staring moments. But here it was given form in the very way she talked.

He nodded, but said nothing.

“Good. My name is Aradia, I’m here to pick up you and Meulin Leijon.”

She didn’t give a blood name – Kurloz picked up on that immediately and maybe it was nothing, but he couldn’t afford to live in the kind of blissful ignorance he’d been for so long.

“Aradia _who?_ ” Kurloz asked. Aradia laughed at him.

“You want my blood name? Are you going to accuse me of being an Authority spy next?”

He felt Meulin tap him on the shoulder and turned. What is she saying – I’m not good with reading lips!

She’s Authority.

“I am most assuredly not,” Aradia said. Kurloz stared – she could read the signing.

Does it surprise you? Hello, Ms. Leijon – it is a pleasure to meet you. Rest assured that I am not a member of the Authority… at least not anymore. We had something of a falling out – it’s a long story for another time. She smiled, just a little. Our mutual acquaintance asked me to contact you in part to accommodate Ms. Leijon’s current disability.

Kurloz glared. How thoughtful. He extended a middle finger to punctuate the intended sarcasm. Aradia only shrugged.

What do you want with us?

Me? I don’t want anything with you. I have my own reasons for doing this, but the bottom line is Scratch wants you somewhere. She grimaced when she signed the man’s name. Why he thinks this is important I don’t know. Her face was impassively stone again – the emotion she’d shown talking about Scratch was hidden away again. 

“Also, Mr. Makara –” Aradia’s voice was low and she was intentionally keeping her lips from moving as much as possible. “And this is just for your ears – regardless of how you feel about our mutual acquaintance… if you try anything against me I will gut your friend in front of you.”

He looked into her eyes and she wasn’t exaggerating or putting on a brave face – she meant every word.

“If you come along and behave…” she stopped for a second, then dropped back into signing. If you’re willing to play this game, we might have a mutually supportive relationship.

Fine. Fine, we’ll go with you. What the fuck else are we doing, right? Waiting for the Authority to come find us?

Aradia _laughed._ “The _Authority?!_ ” I’m sorry – the AUTHORITY?! The secret hidden dagger at the right hand of her Imperial – she waved her hands dismissively, not even bothering with the rest. You think the Authority is going to stop what’s happening? Of course you do – you’ve been fed the Alternian exceptionalism lie for years. Look, I’m just the courier here for now – I’ve been given specific instructions and I’m going to follow them and you’re going to come with me. Because that was in the instructions too. She shrugged. It made no difference to her, personally.

Kurloz knew he had to be careful – this one was dangerous.

So where are we going? You talk a lot but don’t say shit. Meulin fluttered a hand dismissively. Are we just supposed to guess?

No, you’re quite right. We’re going to see a man by the name of Horuss Zahhak at the Offworld Launch Center. He has an important role to play, apparently.

Aradia shrugged, but Kurloz got the sense that her disinterest was feigned. She was playing an angle, but he didn’t know what. Not yet.


	37. Subnet

**10th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Gold District, North Alternian Capitol**

Mituna had kept the wetware, in spite of everything. Because you never knew. You never knew when you would have to do something you really didn’t  _ want _ to in service of the greater good.

His head throbbed with pain, and the mood swings were getting worse. He was becoming increasingly irritable for no reason he could identify. Lashing out at  _ ideas _ like they had personally offended him. Angry at Latula. Angry at Damara. Angry at Kurloz and Aranea and Meenah and Meulin and all of the Authority. Angry for different reasons and some of them made sense but most of them didn’t.

And then it would pass and he would wonder what was wrong with him. He didn’t think he and Latula could be matesprits anymore. That was probably a bridge that had burned – well, maybe more collapsed gradually from neglect. And that was fine – she was happy with Damara and he was happy for her being happy. He wasn’t going to pretend they hadn’t been drifting apart.

He missed Kurloz and Meulin, and he was worried about them. Kurloz had been acting strangely, and Mituna didn’t know exactly why. Mituna felt useless in not being able to help his… he wasn’t sure of the word for it. Not quite a matesprit or a moirail, but more than a friend. Even though he’d played a key role in getting Scratch to release the systems in the Fleet R&D Command…

Except he didn’t believe that. Diving into the Deep Felt he had gotten the sense that he was being  _ allowed _ to do everything. The resistance was only minimal – just enough to seem somewhat convincing, but Mituna had been through a lot. He’d been into the Deep Felt under combat conditions at least once before and it wasn’t the same thing. Instead, it was like play acting.

And why would someone do that?

Mituna put on the wetware headset and booted up the system. He was going to be careful – to poke right in on the edges and try his best not to disturb anything. Because it seemed like he’d been allowed to dive in before, but the public swimming facility was closed now. The Authority believed that Scratch had been warded off – or at least they desperately  _ wanted _ to believe it. Mituna doubted it was true.

Something had been bothering Mituna ever since he first received the copy of the diskette – the location file. All it had been was the location of Aranea’s place – it was like some kind of twisted joke. But that didn’t read quite right to him – Mituna was convinced there was more to it. Something he wasn’t supposed to notice – something he  _ didn’t _ notice.

He settled back into the deeply padded recliner he used when diving the Felt – his sole concession to comfort in the matter. In front of his eyes, the green traces danced.

| BACKTRACE LOCATION.GT   
BACKTRACE FAILED – DATA CORRUPTED   
| ANALYZE LOCATION.GT   
FILE ANALYSIS…   
…   
…   
…   
COMPLETE   
FILE CORRUPTION: 1 DATABLOCK   
| ANALYZE LOCATION.GT -DB:C   
DATABLOCK ANALYSIS: CORRUPT   
ENCRYPTED DATA DETECTED   
DECRYPTION WILL TAKE APPROXIMATELY 8 HOURS   
CONTINUE?   
| YES   
DECRYPTING…

He took off the headset and placed it to the side. His head screamed at him to stop this madness – he told it to shut the fuck up with a handful of headache pills that he crushed between his teeth and swallowed. The bitter taste of the medicine barely even registered over all the other sensations his body was throwing at him.

Leaning back in the recliner, Mituna closed his eyes and sought the sleep that so often evaded him.

* * *

The alarm he set on his terminal blasted Mituna out of the nightmare he was having – a nightmare of twisting, ever-shifting hallways and corridors that never ended. A twisted, chaotic tangle of thoughts and emotions.

Mituna swore and bolted up in the recliner – the terminal readout was blinking at him next to the wetware headset.

DECRYPTION COMPLETE…

He opened the decrypted file – a complex piece of computer code that was hard, but not impossible, to understand. It had been deliberately written to obfuscate its purpose, but Mituna had experience with that kind of thing. He scanned over the results, trying to determine the exact nature of what he was looking at…

Through the haze of the pain around him, he began to understand.

He picked up the phone and dialed Meenah.

* * *

“What’s she doing here?” Mituna spoke through the half-opened apartment door. “I thought you’d be coming alone.”

Meenah shrugged dismissively. “Okay, and? She’s here now.” She was already barging in through the door, regardless of whether or not Mituna actually wanted to let her inside. Porrim came in behind, looking a bit apologetic.

“I don’t necessarily agree with her… crass take on things… but we’re essentially on the same side here.”

“Yeah, yeah. What the fuck did you want us here for?” Meenah sounded… Mituna wasn’t sure how to place it. It hurt to think on it too much, and he felt a surge of anger again. He pushed that down – focused on the immediate.

“First off, great job in checking to see if it’s safe to talk. I checked for surveillance, by the way – good of you to ask.” He couldn’t help it – the sarcasm was _right there._ Meenah narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, smart ass. So why would the Authority care what we’ve got to say now? Aren’t they basically done with us?”

“Not the Authority – Scratch.” And that got her attention. Because maybe if someone else had said something about it, she would’ve dismissed it as bullshit. But there were two people in the world she’d trust on this, and Mituna was the only one who was still alive.

She didn’t say anything else, and Porrim had suddenly gotten a look in her eyes that was a combination of interest and white-hot rage. This had touched a nerve and that nerve was raw and it _hurt._

He walked over and sat down in the recliner, swiveling to face his terminal.

“What do you know about Scratch?” Mituna asked – Meenah stared.

“I don’t know. He’s an artificial intelligence? That’s what Damara had said. He’s obviously well-connected. Wants to hurt the Authority? Why?”

“Because this thing he did – just disappearing like that. It didn’t make any kind of sense. His involvement with our job at the Fleet depot… all of it didn’t connect for me.”

“No shit, genius-brain.” Meenah rolled her eyes but… there was real pain behind them. “What am I supposed to think about that bullshit?”

Mituna pulled up the code he’d been reviewing before, skimming down his newly-added comments.

“I kept trying to make it all fit together before, once we knew that Scratch was behind that job.”

His thoughts were racing – he’d worked this through, but this was the first time he was articulating everything. He was putting the pieces together in real-time.

Why did Scratch need us?   
  
He didn’t. He needed people _like_ us.

“I don’t think the Fleet depot was targeting us specifically. I think he needed a specific set of people – a specific set of skills he could build his plan around. Because I’m not convinced he knew we’d all survive. I think he just needed maybe… maybe one or two of us to survive.”

The other team.

“There was someone else there – someone who got in before us and actually stole the segmented encryption tech. We were coming in after – maybe as a distraction to cover the first team getting out. But I think there was more to it.”

Aranea. The wetware incident.

“Inside this code, there’s a specific trigger that looks for a specialized bit of code. Almost like a call-and-response key. If someone working for Scratch could get this code into a master server, it would sit unnoticed for years until the system linked with the key. It’s a passive system… and I think it was smuggled inside of the buffer cache in Aranea’s uplink wetware.”

He saw Meenah’s eyes go wide and watery – she was trembling, her fists clenched.

Why did he even need the segmented encryption tech?

“I think this was a long game – it didn’t make sense before, but now that I know Scratch was an artificial construct, it does. He was trapped – trapped in whatever environment the Fleet had him in. But if he had access to a segmented encryption drive, he could distribute his consciousness into the Felt itself. He could hop systems almost at will.”

Mituna scrolled through another line of code, checked another comment, and it was all making a lot of _sense._

“That was his jailbreak. And he was gone, just like that. But he wasn’t satisfied with freedom…”

The Authority… no… the _Empire._

“After the Fleet depot job, I think he was trying to implement a second phase of the plan. And he needed us for that part. Specifically he needed Aranea and I for what he’d started to plant, but he needed the rest of us to make it happen. So he drew us all in together – made us all deals we wouldn’t pass up. And then he sent us on a mission that would draw the attention of the Authority, and he dropped enough hints about his own identity that they’d take interest… they’d want to bring us on board.”

Because they couldn’t trust their own people.

Mituna stopped to collect his racing thoughts. He was burning through now, making all the connections at the speed of electricity. The activity inside his brain was humming like a swarm of angry bees.

He needed some of us alive.

“As long as enough of us survived, he would be fine. He needed Aranea to survive for sure… I think he took a gamble with her, but maybe the people who raided the warehouse weren’t actually trying to kill her.” Mituna shrugged. “I don’t know. And I think I was optional at that point…”

The file on the diskette! Don’t forget about that!

“The key to this master code repository was buried inside a location file’s corrupted datablock on the copy of the info disk I had. I think when I opened it, it tried to execute something. But I had my terminal sequestered, so he needed another way in.”

Which is why…

“He needed us to go to Fleet R&D, because he’d already planted people inside. But they couldn’t just go all-out because that would raise suspicion. So he banked on Aranea going along. And that Kanaya would at least scan her wetware. Again… I think he was gambling a bit. Playing the probability on it. But he knew what the odds were and it was worth it.”

And then he just disappeared… he let you in…

“Everything was planned.” He stopped – because he hadn’t realized before, not fully. The steps along the way might not have been absolutely certain, but they were calculated. Scratch had mapped out the way things  _ could _ go and decided that it was the right course of action. Because… 

The code traces…

“I was able to assemble some of what Scratch was doing… references to a Horuss Zahhak specifically, but I haven’t been able to figure out who–”

“The Offworld Launch Center.” Meenah’s voice was hollow in the room – Mituna looked at her and she was shaking her head. “It’s not possible… he couldn’t have found out!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but there wasn’t any reference to you. Just a Fleet dock tag.”

“A what?” Porrim asked from her spot on the floor a bit behind Meenah. “What’s a dock tag?”

“It’s an ID assigned to a ship when it’s in orbital dock for repair or refitting.”

“I know Horuss,” Meenah interrupted. “He was going to help me… I was paying him to get me on a ship out to the colony world of Landfall. I had asked Aranea to come with me, but she… she didn’t want to…” she trailed off and looked at the ground, her usual energy drained.

There’s something he needs on that ship…   
  
No…   
  
He needs _the ship._

“We have to get there!” Mituna shouted, his voice piercing the silence that had fallen over the room. “There’s something else he’s planning. Him disappearing from the R&D command Feltnet wasn’t a coincidence and it wasn’t because of anything I did – it was because he got access to whatever it was that he was looking for! We didn’t do shit to interrupt his plans – just played right into them again!”

The pain was getting worse – the anger was back. Mituna fought hard against it, tried to center himself.

There was a loud, slamming knock on the door. They all looked at each other, then at the door. They waited a moment.

A  _ crash _ and the door burst on its latch and Vriska was standing in the door, grinning at them.

“Don’t you know it’s fucking impolite to keep a lady waiting?” She laughed.

Meenah was across the floor in two bounding strides.

And before Vriska could react, Meenah had landed a punch on her jaw that hit with the sickening noise of wet flesh and Vriska turned, keeled over, and crumpled into a heap on the ground.


	38. Echoes of the Past

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

Meulin stared up at the launch gantries as they approached the main launch complex in Aradia’s electric sedan. Towering above the rest of the complex, they stood as a monument to the early days of Alternian space travel – the days before the orbital docks were built and most of the transportation to and from the larger ships was handled by small shuttles. That was sweeps before Meulin was even hatched, but she’d heard all the stories from the Fleet people while she was underway.

They still used the large launch ships sometimes – to move large pieces of equipment into orbit from their manufacturing stations on Alternia. Most of the production facilities had been moved to the Pink Moon – the mineral-rich layer of dust on its surface provided some of the crucial elements required in the manufacture of certain key navigational components. The launch gantries here were now more of a historic relic than anything else.

She’d been here before – to this very Launch Center. Growing up in the olive district – the very definition of working class. Raised in a brooding home, with a lusus who watched over her and two dozen other olive wigglers. The Mandatory Service Act had technically expired by the time she was of age, but that didn’t really matter. Pulling only a meager stipend once she left the home, she wouldn’t even be able to afford to live off the streets.

So it was that Meulin had grown up in the shadow of the Offworld Launch Center. She would apply for the Alternian Army, because the scale for advancement for olive bloods was better than the Fleet. A simple calculus of opportunity and risk versus reward. The recruiter had promised her that she’d just be spending time pulling guard duty on some forgotten rock somewhere – a colony world that was only inhabited by the Alternian Military personnel stationed there and maybe some kind of non-sentient fungus. That was fine, right? If she was lucky, she might even draw a posting on Alternia itself! That came with a bonus, and she’d be assigned housing right away! Didn’t that all sound… wonderful?

Of course it was all lies. After basic training, she’d been assigned to a rotating Fleet posting. And for the first time, she boarded the shuttle and left the planet she’d known for nine sweeps.

A Sub-Corporal aboard the Imperial Warship _Reliable._ Colony Worlds 894E and 894D – the twin planets. That one was basically guard duty, although they’d heard rumors of a terrorist attack on a local barracks. She never saw what happened.

A Corporal aboard the Imperial Dropship _Firewatch._ Colony World 1255B – the stench of methane in the air all the time. The first combat she’d ever seen. The first time she’d had to take a life. Throwing up that evening – and shaking. She didn’t want to get out of her rack in the morning… but she had anyway. It got easier the second time. And the time after that.

Still a Corporal, the Imperial Carrier _Aspire._ No ground duty that tour – just endless, boring rotations on security. She’d been tapped for Felt training, which meant they were going to promote her soon. Her head ached for a week after the first time. She got into a fight with a Sub-Corporal and that put them in medical and her in the brig. It was fine. Her Sergeant told her to sleep it off overnight and the paperwork on the incident was somehow lost.

Skipped right ahead to Sergeant and rotated planetside to Colony World 19D – _Abundance_ – one of the ones they bothered to name. Half a tour of training culminating in a massive live-fire exercise to prepare for something big. One of the other squads had a casualty during training, but not hers. They put her in command of a fire team.

Sergeant – Imperial Dropship _Apex._ The first time she met the rust blood commandos – they didn’t like to talk much, but she respected them. Colony World 4312C – a planet that was hot and unpleasant when she was there. Rebels had seized control of a mining facility and her unit was deployed in support of the commandos while they cleaned it out. She didn’t remember there being any prisoners.

Sergeant – her first trip back to Alternia since basic. Advanced squad leadership training. Advanced weapons training. She was being put in charge of a full squad. Then she was back into the darkness…

Squad Sergeant – the Imperial Dropship _Pinnacle._ Colony World 5672A. The rebels had seized Alternian Military supplies and were well-armed and well-equipped. But they were poorly-trained and disorganized. Meulin would lead one of the squads in an assault on their primary base of operations. It would end quickly.

Somehow, miraculously, she was still a Squad Sergeant… and she was in a hospital on Alternia and it was so, so quiet.

Now she was staring up at the towers of the launch gantries once more…

And it was so, so quiet.

* * *

**Sweeps in the Past**  
**Alternian Dropship Pinnacle, in orbit around Colony World 5672A**

The briefing room was cramped – a simple byproduct of the general lack of space on the dropship. It wasn’t the first time Meulin had stood here – they’d been on Colony World 5672A (it didn’t rate a name) for a quarter-sweep already. Standard procedure was to rotate a week planetside, then back to the dropship for three standard Alternian day-cycles. Of course the end result was that no one was ever on a regular sleep cycle and everyone was always keyed up. Being shot at didn’t help much.

Meulin had already briefed the squad for their Sub-Commander, now she looked over her personal fire team. The ones who would be by her side through the entirety of the operation. The ones who would be dead in a fetid ditch inside of a day-cycle.

Denera, the bronze-blood communications specialist. He was good-natured, if a little bit on the loud side. Had a bit of a thing for gambling with the other enlisted. Meulin pretended she didn’t know about it, even though hiding that fact on a ship the size of the Pinnacle was essentially impossible.

Kimani, the rust blood Sub-Corporal who’d just gotten out of basic before being assigned here. Hell of a first posting. Meulin didn’t know her very well, but she seemed eager to learn.

Weskin, the squad’s gold blood Felt tech. He’d been with her during training back on Alternia when the Felt techs rotated in to cross-train with the squad leadership. He was reserved and preferred the company of books to people, but he was a good soldier.

“You were all in the briefing, so you all know the deal,” Meulin looked at each of the fireteam members in turn. “This isn’t our first time out. Engineering has already built a trench system at the head of the valley, so we’ll be in there with command staff on the ground. The Sub-Commander is very anxious to show that she’s capable to the blue bloods – she’s a teal, she can’t help herself.” They chuckled at that and Meulin smiled.

She nodded to her fire team. “We’re going to be on the back-end of the front lines, directing support and relaying info from the field.”

They would be overrun.

“Intel says there’s a division, but they’re poorly organized.”

Intel was wrong.

Meulin smiled. “Besides, we’ll have air support – the Aspire has joined us in-system and I know their crew – it’ll be fine. So go get some rack time and we’ll be dropping in a few hours when the planet’s night-cycle will give us some cover.

_They would all be dead inside of twenty hours._

* * *

Horuss Zahhak was a full Over-Commander in the Alternian Fleet, but his official position was “Dockmaster” – a title that had its origins back when the Alternians first sailed from continent to continent on their great planet – well before Her Imperious Condescension had united them all under a banner of technocratic superiority. Horuss was, in theory, the center of the world as far as the activities on the Offworld Launch Center were concerned. He was ultimately responsible for scheduling, coordinating activities with the orbital docks, maintaining the Launch Center’s facilities, and a hundred other jobs.

In truth, he delegated almost everything in favor of spending his time in his workshop tinkering with various mechanical devices. Meulin’s first impression walking in was that of filth, but she soon began to see that there was a kind of scatter order to the chaos. Horuss, a hulking blue blood, was seated at a workbench with a pair of goggles on, paying close attention to something that precluded him noticing when Aradia, Kurloz, and Meulin walked in.

Meulin couldn’t hear it, but she saw Aradia mouth moving and Horuss jump. He said something in response. Meulin hadn’t been out much since she lost her hearing, and she was becoming increasingly frustrated not being able to follow along.

Kurloz tapped her on the shoulder. He wants to know why she’s here and who the fuck we are.

Meulin nodded – that made sense. There was a short, silent conversation, and then Aradia turned to look at Meulin directly.

I think you’ll appreciate the irony of this situation – you see, there’s a certain ship in orbit. One you’ve been on before. The Pinnacle, as a matter of fact.

Meulin felt the world turn around her when she heard the name – she couldn’t think properly. Her breathing felt halting now – she couldn’t stand up.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Kurloz standing there – supporting her. She let her breath out and nodded to him. Thanks, you’re the best.

He grinned. I know, Kittybitch!

Charming – utterly charming. The Pinnacle was converted to an electronic warfare platform after the ill-fated campaign on 5672A–

Horuss said something else and Aradia snapped at him, then returned to her conversation with Meulin. Mr. Zahhak here will be assisting us.

He interrupted in a way that suggested, from the body language, that his assistance was at best conditional. Aradia smiled and said something.

Mr. Zahhak says that he will be more than happy to assist. Interestingly, I believe you will have a role to play in this as well Ms. Leijon… Meulin? May I call you Meulin?

Meulin grimaced. We’re not friends.

Very well, Ms. Leijon. In any case, we’ll be making some preparations here with the help of a few members of the Fleet who are loyal enough to Scratch. Meulin noticed that Horuss winced at the mention of the name. As for you, I would suggest that you begin making preparations to take a bit of a trip down memory lane.

She knew what Aradia was going to say before her hands even began moving.

You may have surmised this already, but our next step will require that we make a bit of a trip up to the Pinnacle. We have work to do.

There was a brief exchange between Aradia and Horuss – a lot of hand-waving and what looked like it was probably shouting. Kurloz leaned over.

The blue-blood brother seems to think we won’t be able to do this. Says we’re lucky we even got inside.

Aradia turned back to Kurloz and Meulin and smiled. I have helpfully informed Over-Commander Zahhak that, as he should be well aware, you don’t need to buy ALL the people… just the RIGHT ones.

Somehow, Meulin found her smile unsettling. There was something behind it – something that went beyond even whatever they were trying to do for Scratch. She didn’t like it and she didn’t trust it – and she was only going along with this until she could figure out what it  _ was _ exactly.

And then how she could stop it.


	39. A Hard Sell

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Gold District, North Alternian Capitol**

It was Porrim’s face that Damara first saw when the door to Mituna’s apartment opened – she wasn’t entirely sure  _ why _ Porrim was even there at this ungodly hour in the morning, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. The message from Mituna had been urgent enough.

“What the fuck’s happening?” Damara tried to crane around Porrim to see inside – the jade blood opened the door but she still couldn’t see anything beyond the front room of Mituna’s place. “Mituna didn’t say shit on the phone.”

Porrim sighed and stepped aside to let Damara and Latula walk in.

“Oh shit,” Latula said as they entered. “There’s blood on the ground.”

Sure enough, there was a splatter of cerulean on the ground. Damara knew of only two likely candidates for the source of that blood, and one of them had died in front of her.

“Where’s Vriska?” she asked. A twisting sensation in her stomach – a combination of nervous energy and a general feeling of discontent that’d been festering for the last day or two. Damara groaned and put a hand to her side.

Feel like I’m gonna fucking throw up…

Latula called back into the apartment – “Mituna?! Meenah?!”

“Back here!” Mituna’s voice from the bedroom at the back of the apartment. Damara felt a little twist of guilt – even if the awkwardness of the situation was tempered by its urgency, she couldn’t help but feel that all of this could’ve been handled better. It was an easy thought to push aside for the moment, at least. She did, after all, have more important things to worry about.

The scene in the bedroom was a confusing one – Mituna was sitting on a chair and Meenah was kneeling on the floor. Underneath Meenah was Vriska, her hands tied behind her with what looked like an electrical cord. She was quiet, but still struggling a little. Her metal arm, however, didn’t seem to be working quite right.

“I had to disable the control circuit so she didn’t break the cord,” Mituna said. That explained that part, at least. The rest of the questions…

“What the fuck is  _ she _ doing here?” Latula beat Damara to the question that had immediately sprung to mind.

“This bitch right here won’t say shit!” Meenah snarled. “Said she wouldn’t talk until everyone was here!”

It seemed to Damara that Meenah was perilously close to killing Vriska – she was certainly capable of it. Despite Vriska’s strength and comparative experience in combat, Meenah was  _ angry _ in a way that was difficult to fully describe. It made sense, of course – Damara hadn’t realized how deep her feelings for Aranea had gone. Meenah was the kind of person who was difficult to read, always playing her hand face-down and thinking three or four steps ahead without telling anyone what the plan was. There was no doubt in her mind that there was more to this than Meenah had let on, but the more immediate concern was why Vriska had decided to risk showing up here.

It seemed unlikely that she had no idea that Meenah would be there – Damara was almost completely certain they were all still under surveillance.

“She wants to kill you,” Damara addressed this to Vriska in a tone that was almost conversational. “You didn’t think this one through, you stupid fuck.”

“Oh fuck you!” Vriska spat the words out, full of bile. “This is bigger than some fucking washed up agent of the–” the rest was cut out with a  _ hurk _ as Meenah bore down on her neck, pressing her face into the wooden floor of the apartment.

“I don’t think  _ she _ sees it that way.” Damara leaned up against the wall. “Mituna, how’re you?”

“Not real fucking great,” Mituna said – his face was hard to read. He sounded more  _ tired _ than anything, but there was an undercurrent of anger in there. Damara felt her stomach twist again.

Yeah… lot of that going around lately…

Damara looked around the room – from Mituna to Latula – Porrim was standing in the hallway. Finally, she looked down at Vriska. “Pretty sure if Meenah here wants you dead, I’m the only one who stands a halfway decent chance of stopping her. And honestly, I haven’t exactly been feeling fucking great lately myself so…” She shrugged.

Hope you’re feeling really lucky now, you goddamn bitch.

Vriska struggled to say something else, but it was hard enough for her to even breathe – Meenah let the pressure up and said “You say something, bitch? You want to tell me why the fuck you thought coming her would end well?!”

“You… want to see the others again?” She managed to gasp it out before Meenah put pressure on her neck again.

Mituna pushed himself forward off the wall. “Kurloz and Meulin! Wait a minute – what the hell do you know about them?!”

Looking up at Mituna, Meenah shifted her knee to the side, letting Vriska breathe normally. She bent over and said something low to Vriska – something Damara couldn’t hear. Vriska gasped for air.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Mituna continued. “Where are they and what the fuck is happening?!”

Vriska laughed and Damara hated the sound of it – there was something so undeniably  _ bitter _ about her. “We were so fucking _arrogant!_ ” Vriska kept laughing – Damara found herself wishing that Meenah would just hurry up and kill her already.

“You wanna fucking  _ expand _ on that a little?” Mituna asked – he had moved closer to Vriska and was bending over. “Maybe give us some reason why we should listen to you?”

Another one of those horrible, bitter laughs. “The rest of those dumbasses think it’s over. They think Scratch is lost in the void or whatever bullshit… they’re a bunch of fucking fools. They don’t know him like I do.”

Damara glared. “Bullshit! I was there when Kanaya talked about him – you didn’t know any more than the rest of us!”

“That’s what I thought… but then I put some of the timeline together in the last fews days and I realized…” she smiled. Her lip was cut open and she was still leaking cerulean blood onto the wood floor. “I’ve run into him once before. He gave me a couple of souvenirs.”

She grinned and the mechanical eye twitched.

“Let her up,” Damara said quietly.

Meenah cocked her head to the side. “Excuse the fuck me, bitch? Are you fucking off your shit?”

“Let her up.” Damara repeated it, her voice dropping and taking on a tone of menace. “Don’t make me hurt you, Meenah. I like you… but I will put you on the ground if I have to.”

Meenah was growling – “You  _ know _ what this bitch did!”

“Yes… I was there.” Damara could hear it – all the emotion had dropped out of her voice now. Meenah heard it too, and immediately let Vriska roll onto her side and sit up. Damara turned to Vriska. “You’d better tell a good fucking story or I’m not going to stop her.” The cold was still in her voice.

“I ran into Scratch back when I was in AIS,” Vriska began. “I just didn’t know it was him at the time. He did the same thing he does now – works through intermediaries. But if Kanaya’s right about all her shit – and she probably is – then he must’ve convinced someone on the inside. And I think I know who.”

“Be less vague,” Damara snarled at her. “And talk fast – I’m getting sick of hearing your voice.”

“We received intel that someone was moving a bunch of high-end Fleet tech through the black market. A contact within the Authority set up an exchange to transfer some of the technology. A dummy terminal electronic hand-off – the remote tech wasn’t as good back then and the Felt safeguards meant no one wanted to try to handle the exchange without doing it hand-to-hand.” Vriska shifted against the electrical cord holding her arms behind her back.

“Our Authority contact was a woman named Aradia – she’d been a commando like you –” Vriska nodded to Damara – “and she’d been working for the Authority for sweeps. She was a tough one – and she helped set up this exchange.”

Vriska glared. “Problem was… she didn’t show at the meeting point. I have to go in and do the exchange myself. Someone rigged the dummy terminal to explode and…” she trailed off and shrugged the shoulder that supported the metal arm.

“Well, you get the idea. It was complete chaos – the support team got into a gunfight with everyone else on the scene and I was useless. We never even tracked what actually got lost – just wrote the whole thing off. AIS buried it, and Aradia just… vanished. Like a fucking ghost!”

“What about the rest of you?” Mituna asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. “Why are you the only one here? I’d think they’d want to keep you the fuck away from us after what you did.”

Vriska sneered, her lips curling back over her teeth. “You think I want to be here?! The others didn’t believe me. Terezi said it was nonsense and Kanaya said she was sure that Scratch had been isolated inside the Fleet systems and destroyed. Fucking nonsense… that fucker’s up to something!”

Something about this wasn’t making sense – she was too  _ sure _ of herself.

“What makes you think he’s still doing anything?” Damara asked. “What makes you think he was responsible for what happened to you?”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot, you goddamn rustie piece of shit! I looked back over Kanaya’s notes on this – everything matches up too perfectly. And then I got a call from one of my AIS contacts and she tells me that a person perfectly matching Aradia pinged in the system. And then when she went back to pull the verifying info, suddenly the data was gone. You think that’s a fucking _coincidence?!_ ” She spat the word out.

It didn’t seem like a coincidence… and in spite of how much Damara hated her, Vriska did have the most relevant experience of anyone there.

“We know that Scratch is still out there,” Mituna said, quietly. Damara felt something inside her lurch – it made sense, but to hear it confirmed like that was something else. “He’s interested in a ship docked at the Offworld Launch Center. I couldn’t find out more than that, but the commander of the facility is… he’s fucking corrupt as shit, okay?”

There was a sudden spark of horrible recognition in Vriska’s eyes – that last part had  _ meant _ something to her.

“We need to go there right the fuck now!” Her voice had taken on a sense of desperate urgency.

Meenah laughed at her and twisted on her arm. “You think we’re going anywhere with you, then you’re outta your fucking mind.”

“You don’t fucking  _ get _ it, do you? My contact pinged Aradia at that same facility today… fuck… yesterday? What fucking  _ time _ is it? She was there already! She was meeting with some low-level facility guard Sub-Commander and got caught on the surveillance trap. She never signed in anywhere though, and the records got blasted! She’s fucking planning something!”

Damara stepped over and reached down to grab Meenah’s arm – the fuschia blood struggled but Damara, by way of the Alternian Army’s meddling, was stronger than her by far. “I want to see her dead almost as much as you do, but we need to know what the fuck is happening here. And if it brings us closer to finding what happened to Kurloz and Meulin… don’t they deserve that?”

She nodded toward Mituna. “Doesn’t he deserve that?”

Meenah’s jaw was set – for a second, Damara thought that she’d have to force the issue – but she relaxed and let go of Vriska’s arms.

“Fine!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the arm. “Fucking fine! We’ll just follow the murdering bitch into another fucking trap!” She stood up and walked toward the door, but stopped halfway.

She looked directly at Vriska. “I’m coming along… but I’m only doing this so that the second we’re done with needing your help, I can kill you myself.”

She took two more steps, then turned again.

“And trust me – I’m not going to make it quick like when you shot Aranea like a fucking rabid barkbeast!”


	40. A Sword Suspended by a Thread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: This chapter contains depictions of gun violence, including some graphic content.

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Approaching Orbital Dock 17D, Low Orbit over Alternia**

For fifteen minutes, Kurloz was once again struck with the absolute wonder – the absolute certainty that the Mirthful Messiahs weren’t dead, but had been watching over them all along. The green-blue ball speckled with clouds that was Alternia fell away and the stars became pinpricks of light, then a jewel-studded fabric of the deepest black velvet. The burning anger that had seated itself so deeply inside of him loosened its clutches for that moment, allowing him to drink in the wonder that presented itself before him.

He held Meulin’s hand tightly as the shuttle shuddered and rocked as it passed through the atmosphere, then steadied and glided into orbit. She looked nervous, and Kurloz knew that her mind was taking her to the last time she’d been clattering through the atmosphere of a planet.

But Kurloz had never been offworld – had never ridden in one of the spacecraft that darted out to the massive starships that loomed in their orbital docks. The Messianic Order of Joy believed that the key to bettering the lives of Alternians was to stay on Alternia. Those who fled to the colony worlds were well-meaning, but ultimately it was only a small bandage on the gaping wound that was everything wrong with Alternian society. The Order believed that by spreading peace and understanding, the people of Alternia would come to understand that they were being misled by their leaders. They would peacefully come to a way of life that would benefit all of them.

It was a lie, Kurloz knew, but it was a comforting lie. And here in orbit around the planet, with the ugliness of the world so far below and the tapestry of the heavens opened up before him… he realized that part of him still believed in the Order’s message. Whether it was only the product of a lifetime of conditioning or a genuine belief in the Alternian people, Kurloz wasn’t sure. But maybe that kernel of hope could spring into something worthwhile.

He looked out the window and saw the Green Moon cresting the edge of Alternia, hanging off in the distance like a festering sore. Kurloz wasn’t even sure why he had that thought – the Green Moon was basically unused. It lacked the minerals so crucial to manufacturing that the Pink Moon had in abundance. The Alternian Fleet was rumored to have facilities on the Green Moon, but Kurloz was in no position to know for sure.

It gave him an uneasy feeling though – something that called to mind Mituna’s description of the Deep Felt – and he wasn’t sure why.

Kurloz shivered and squeezed Meulin’s hand harder. She glanced over and tapped his knee.

What’s wrong?

I don’t know. Just got a bad feeling.

Across from them, Aradia was sitting up in her jumpseat, her eyes half-closed. She casually moved her hands in a sign. You two don’t need to worry. You’re mostly here for emotional support. She smiled – Kurloz didn’t like how it looked on her.

A crackle from the cabin, and the gold blood pilot announced that they would be docking with the orbital platform in another ten minutes.

What are we even doing? They’re not just gonna let you go on board! Meulin was looking directly at Aradia as she signed it. 

Aradia’s smile stayed the same – still vaguely unnerving to see. Don’t worry about that – I have a plan in place.

Something about that – Kurloz could feel the brief moment of hope fading away, replaced only with the bitter hatred that had come to define his existence. He didn’t even bother to try to respond.

* * *

**Orbital Dock 17D, Low Orbit over Alternia**

Aradia removed an unusual-looking rifle from a case under her seat, checking the firearm before she released her buckles and let herself float upward in the cabin. Kurloz didn’t recognize the gun – but Meulin apparently did.

What the fuck are you doing with that? I thought you had a plan!

Aradia smiled again – the same worrying, death’s-grin smile. I do.

All three of them floated to the hatch of the shuttle, using the hand-holds that were placed there specifically for that purpose. Kurloz found his stomach was having some trouble getting used to the sensation of weightlessness.

I thought they had grav plating.

Meulin shook her head, anchoring herself with one of the handles. Only on the bigger ships. The shuttles and the docks don’t usually.

If all goes according to plan, we probably won’t need to even go on the ship. If we do, I trust you’re still familiar with its layout? She was looking directly at Meulin, who visibly cringed. 

Yeah, I am.

Good! Now we’re going to go say hello to some friends. Please stay behind me at all times, these things can get a bit funny. She waved the rifle she was holding, and Kurloz was even more confused. 

What is that? Why do you have a gun?

This? This is an insurance policy.

Meulin was glowering at her. It’s a fucking recoilless! You’re not doing this peacefully!

Aradia laughed and shook her head. Dear, peace is simply a matter of perspective. And she pushed herself toward the hatch and through the docking tunnel that connected the shuttle to the orbital dock.

* * *

On the other side of the docking tunnel, the orbital dock’s main corridor opened up and swept around in a loop. Thick windows dotted the corridor, allowing a view outside that was fragmentary, but enough to show the hulking form of the Pinnacle sitting in the distance, at the far end of the dock. Signs clearly labelled the corridor, and Aradia began to float herself toward the command center.

“Dock functions are mostly automated,” she said quietly – her hands on the gun and guiding her along the handles in the corridor prevented her from signing. “Loading troops is done with larger shuttles that dock directly with the ship, so there’s only a small crew in the dock’s command facilities along with some security that we’ll run into momentarily. They think we’re here to conduct a routine inspection of the command module.”

At the end of the widening corridor, they came to a large security door and Aradia stopped herself, holding tightly to the nearest of the hand-holds and waiting.

“They’ll be out shortly,” she said.

Hey, Kittybitch – you might wanna hold onto something. Kurloz signed one-handed back to Meulin while clinging to the side of the wall. 

After a few minutes, the door began to click and whir, and slowly slid open to reveal a troll in an officer’s uniform and four trolls holding rifles that looked similar to the one Aradia had. The officer smiled.

“I’m sorry, we don’t normally get such high-blooded officers up here… although I expected you to be in uniform…” he was looking at Kurloz expectantly, as if there was some answer that was supposed to be given.

It never came.

Kurloz heard a series of four quick noises, the rushing of air and sudden smell of ozone. Before he could process what was happening, four rocket darts had found their marks and the four guard sprouted blood-roses on their foreheads. Their blood-color sprayed out the back in chunks that coalesced and gelled together in the low gravity, forming drifting blobs as their bodies listed uselessly off to the side.

He heard himself screaming.

“If you reach for a gun, you will die.” Aradia’s voice, completely cold. Kurloz turned and saw her holding the rifle, bracing up against the wall. “If you try to sound an alarm, you will die. How many other people are in the command center?”

The officer shook his head, trembling. “It’s just us! Everyone else is on board the Pinnacle overseeing the final conversion to the new platform!”

“Good –” Aradia fired once more and the strange rifle hissed and sent one more rocket dart into the head of the officer, blowing jade green out the other side in a spraying fountain that continued moving until it hit the far wall and splattered lazily up and down the plastic surface.

Come on, we’ve got work to do. Aradia had slung the rifle around her body to free up her hands. She pushed off and drifted down the corridor, through the security doors, and past the drifting bodies of the five trolls she’d just killed without a second thought. 

Kurloz fought back the urge to vomit – he didn’t know what the experience would be like in low gravity, and he wasn’t interested in finding out.

* * *

It looked like the officer’s final words had been truthful, because they didn’t encounter any other people by the time they reached the command room. Aradia floated in through the door, followed by Meulin and Kurloz.

Kurloz’s mind was racing – he couldn’t make sense of what was happening. The casual violence Aradia had shown towards the crew – whatever the final goal was here – none of it was making any sense. Aradia drifted over to a command console and slid herself into the commander’s chair, fastening down the straps that held her in place. She took something out of a zippered pocket on her jumpsuit – some kind of data interface drive – and plugged it into a slot in the console.

It won’t be long now. Again, I hope not to actually need your help, Ms. Leijon – but we will see shortly! She drummed her fingers on the console as the terminal in front of her lit up and began to flash test on the screen. 

BOOTLOADER INITIATED…   
FELT BRIDGE INSTALLED   
CONNECTION INITIATED   
? < It feels truly wonderful to be in one of these again…   
? < Albeit without the constraints of the last time!   
? < Darling Aradia, would you please inform my friends here what will be happening?

Aradia turned away from the console.

He’s going to shut off the life support to clear out the Pinnacle. Something in her face didn’t look right – she wasn’t okay with this, but she _ had _ to be okay with this? It didn’t make sense.

It was like his mind was immersed in a thick clay – he couldn’t force himself to think any faster. Couldn’t get ahead of what was happening. He’d just seen five lives end in front of him! The remains of their mortal essence were splashed up against bulkheads and drifting aimlessly in the microgravity.

He couldn’t even talk to Meulin without Aradia knowing! Kurloz was completely, utterly trapped!

The terminal blinked silently.

? < And, as the saying goes, “it is finished.”   
? < In fifteen minutes I’ll cycle the air back and you can board.   
? < Do please hurry – I suspect that the Authority may have gotten wind of this.   
? < Although I doubt they know the specifics.   
? < My influence still has its limits… for now.

What the fuck? What are we doing now? Meulin looked furious. Just kill a bunch of random people? For what?!

Aradia bowed her head and for the first time since he’d met her, Kurloz saw a deep regret in her face. She was trapped too, in a way. We board the Pinnacle and disable the Felt lock preventing Scratch from taking over the ship.

She was going to hand him a dropship.  _ They _ were going to hand him a dropship!

Why?! Why are you doing this?! How can you let that bastard do this?! Meulin was shaking now – trembling with a barely-restrained rage. She wouldn’t win in a fight against Aradia, even without the gun. 

There’s more to this than you realize. Aradia shook her head. More than you could possibly know.

Kurloz looked out the window, away from the Pinnacle, and toward the Green Moon. It was taunting him – sitting there as a lifeless reminder that the Messiahs weren’t dead and hadn’t abandoned… because they had never existed in the first place.

And the closest thing to a god that Kurloz knew for a certainty actually existed was about to be put in control of an Alternian Fleet warship.


	41. Awkward Conversation in the Back of a Van

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **En route to the Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

By the time Meenah had gotten hold of an electric van and they’d gotten underway, the day-cycle was already well under way. It was a five hour drive to the Offworld Launch Center, positioned far north of the Capitol for reasons of security and optimizing launches to the various orbital platforms.

It turned out that five hours was a long time to be stuck in the back of a van with your lover, your maybe-ex, and an extremely murderous member of the Alternian Empire’s Authority. Porrim and Meenah were in the front of the van, separated by the firewall from any contact with Vriska. That meant that there would be no murder at least for the duration of the drive. With that security in mind, Vriska had promptly closed her eyes and fallen asleep, leaving the other three to shuffle and stare awkwardly at each other.

It was half an hour before anyone talked. Latula was somewhat surprised when she decided to break the silence herself.

“I’m sorry that I never said anything to you in the beginning.” The van wasn’t noisy – Mituna heard her clearly. His face twisted through a couple different emotions – regret and anger and finally… a kind of resigned sadness.

“Look – I know I said I didn’t want to have this fucking conversation, but what else am I doing, right?” He sighed. “I guess what bothers me most is why the hell you didn’t just  _ say _ something to me? Like, if this was so important, why not just fucking talk to me?”

She knew the answer she was going to give – the only answer she’d been able to come up with. As simple and pathetic as it sounded every time she said it.

“I didn’t want to bother you with it. Because… I guess I figured it wasn’t a big deal, but you were dealing with so much after the depot job.” The words still sounded hollow.

Mituna closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples. “So why not just… _not._ ”

And she knew the answer she was going to give to this as well. Another thing she’d given a lot of thought to – because if the answer wasn’t what it was, everything would’ve been simplified one way or another.

“I love her.” Damara, who Latula had apparently completely forgotten was sitting next to her, blushed and shuffled her feet. Something about the imposing former commando blushing like a little wiggler discovering their first flushed crush was almost unspeakably adorable. Had the context been different, Latula thought she’d really be able to appreciate that.

“God… fuck… I _know!_ ” Mituna leaned back, his head bumping softly against the side of the van. “Look… I’m gonna be honest with you. There are times I wanna fucking strangle you for lying to me, but then I think… why do I feel like that? And… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I care. It bothers me you didn’t tell me – it bothers me enough that I can’t call you my matesprit anymore. And maybe we were already drifting apart and that’s why this all happened the way it did. Or maybe not. I don’t fucking  _ know _ and that bothers me more than anything. It’s not like I stopped caring about you at all.”

He stopped and seemed to be gathering his thoughts, eyes still closed. “And honestly… Damara, I care about you too. What we’ve been through together – that means something to me.”

Mituna looked like he was trying to put something together – to figure out how to explain what he was thinking in a way that would make sense to anyone who wasn’t him. “And the two people who mean the most to me… they’re in the wind and I know that Scratch has something to do with it. I’ve got a fucking  _ lot _ going on…”

There was more – she could see in his face that there was more. And it had nothing to do with her, or their dissolved relationship.

“I never wanted to go back into the Deep Felt,” Mituna said quietly – barely audible even over the rumbling of the van’s tires on the roadway. “You don’t… you don’t know what it looks like. What it does to you. It gets inside you and there’s a voice in there that _won’t… stop… talking._ ”

He leaned forward and opened his eyes – tears glistened and he sobbed. “Kurloz and Meulin… being with them helped. And when I met you I… I really liked spending time with you, Latula, but something about it was always… I dunno…” He shrugged, still crying.

She wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure _what._ In the time they’d been together, Latula didn’t think he’d ever talked about this with her – not in any great detail. She always knew that he was closer in many ways to Kurloz and Meulin, at least in an emotional way. Something about their dynamic… she would never understand it, but she understood it. If that made any sense.

“Mituna… I’m sorry…” Latula’s voice trailed off. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Damara smiling at her.

“It’s not your fault,” Mituna replied. “I never told you because… I don’t know why. But that’s not the point – after the depot job, it got worse. I could still sense what was out there, waiting in the corners of the Deep Felt. And then I had to go back in…”

Haunted. He looked haunted. He wasn’t really looking at her, or at Damara – just kind of staring in their general direction.

“It’s never going to stop looking for me.” He didn’t expand on what this _meant,_ exactly, and the implications were terrifying.

Damara leaned in. “I’ve never been in the Felt, but I’ve known people in the Fleet who’ve been through the same as you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I’m not the only one who’s been hurt by them – we all have. Even this one,” he gestured at Vriska, who was snoring with her head back in the corner of the van. “How does someone turn into something so _vicious?!_ How did any of us turn into what we are?”

Mituna locked eyes with Damara, and Latula could see a kind of understanding pass between them. They’d both been used by the same people. In the end, they all had been.

“But Scratch isn’t better. Whatever he is… he lives out there in the Deep Felt like it’s comfortable to him, and that scares me. Even if he’s just an artificial intelligence… there’s things out there that aren’t meant to be.” Again, he didn’t elaborate, and the vagary of it scared Latula more than any explanation he could’ve given.

“Fuck… I don’t know. I just want to stop fucking hurting all the time!” Mituna bent forward, putting his head between his hands. “Is that so much to ask!”

I was so caught up in my own bullshit… I never realized how hurt he really was.

She’d been supportive – as best she knew how. But at the end of the day, she wasn’t the one who knew him best. Had never been. She wanted to reach out to him – to hold his hand in support – but it felt strangely inappropriate. Mituna drew in a deep breath in halting gasps.

“Fuck! The last sweep has just been such a shit-show!” His shoulders shook. Finally, Latula reached out and put a hand on his head, her fingers at the base of his horns.

“I should’ve been more supportive,” she said quietly. Mituna stopped shaking and reached up to put a hand on hers.

“It’s… it’s okay. Shit… maybe not  _ okay _ in general right now, but it’ll be okay. We’re not out of this yet.”

Damara leaned in close to the two of them and spoke in a low whisper. “We can’t let this bitch over here steer things.” She cocked her head towards Vriska. “She’s dangerous. She killed Aranea without a second thought and she’ll do the same for any of us.”

Latula nodded – it was the truth. Even not having been there herself, she knew it. She’d seen people like that in the Legiscorpus – Legislacerators who were more interested in hurting trolls than in anything approaching justice. But in Vriska’s case… it felt like there was more to it than that. She wasn’t a brute – her violence was ultimately calculated to meet an end. Perhaps an end driven by a desire for vengeance, but it was still a carefully formulated series of steps. She might appear to act on instinct, but it was a ruse.

“They’re all dangerous,” Mituna said without raising his head. “No matter what they tell us, they’re all a part of this system.”

“What do we fucking _do?!_ ” Latula heard the anger seeping deep into her voice. What option did they even have except to either keep playing the game the Authority was setting up or step back and let Scratch burn everything down around them and crown himself king of the ash pile?

“Vriska isn’t stupid,” Damara said, her voice still low. “She’s terrified of what Scratch is doing, and I think she’s got good reason. Something big is about to happen… and I think the Authority is going to look to us to fix it.”

Because we’re the only ones they can trust not to be bought out.

Mituna smiled from where he was. “Personally I’m not planning on just crawling away and letting all this newfound honesty and self-awareness go to waste.” He was trying to sound cheerful, but there was a hard edge of pain underneath – just functioning was costing him dearly these days.

Maybe that was it – it wasn’t a sprint to see if they could figure out Scratch’s plans before he could implement them… he already seemed to be at least three steps ahead in that regard. It was more an endurance race to see if they could even figure out a way to stop him before they were all too physically exhausted to continue.


	42. Launch Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter includes the implied death of a major character.

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

“I must assure you that I have no knowledge of what they’re planning!” Horuss was backing into a corner, as one often did when faced with an angry Vriska holding an Alternian service pistol to their head. Meenah respected her directness, even if she also wanted her dead more than anything else in the whole Alternian Empire.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Vriska snarled and thrust the pistol forward, jamming the barrel up under Horuss’ chin – his hands went up instinctively. “I want to know where they are and what the fuck they’re doing! Now!”

Horuss nodded, visibly shaking as he lowered his hands. “Of course! I’m sorry to say I don’t know exactly what their plans may be – but they boarded a shuttle bound for orbital dock number 17D. Beyond making the arrangements for the appropriate clearance, I am unsure what specifically they were planning.”

“Useless shit!” Vriska slammed her free hand into the wall next to Horuss’ head and took a step back, still pointing the gun at him – Horuss jumped back, bumping his head into the wall.

“If it’s of any help, the dock has stopped responding to communications.”

It didn’t help. Meenah turned away, back toward the others that were standing in Horuss’ office-turned-workshop. Mituna and Damara were standing there – Porrim and Latula had chosen to wait outside the door and keep watch.

Would’ve gotten more helpful information out of Cronus.

She shook her head to herself – Horuss was well-mannered and unflappably polite, but he was a political puppet through-and-through. He enjoyed his position in the chain of command, and had no intention of questioning it. He would be obedient to the Empire – and by extension the Authority – to a fault…

Only he wasn’t, was he?

Because he was just as corrupt as the rest of them. He’d been willing to offer Meenah passage to Landfall in exchange for a sizable chunk of money.

That hurt to think about. _Aranea._ She didn’t want to go, but maybe she would’ve changed her mind. Maybe when all this had ended she would’ve wanted something different. Wanted to finally step off the ball of pain that was Alternia and finally be free. _More_ free, at least.

She fought the tears because now wasn’t the time. But when _was?_ She wanted to kill Vriska and she wanted to beat Horuss until he finally told her  _ something _ useful and she didn’t even particularly care what.

And then what?

It wouldn’t bring her back.

“What do you mean they’re not responding?” Mituna’s voice cut into her thoughts because he sounded _terrified._ “You absolute fucking… what the fuck is  _ wrong _ with you?”

Horuss blinked heavily, as if he’d just woken up from a nap and wasn’t currently being held at gunpoint by a very angry former AIS agent. “I beg your pardon? It is only a momentary lapse.”

“You fucking _idiot!_ ” Mituna stepped past Meenah and walked right up to Horuss – he was shaking with anger. “Did you earn your rank tab from inside of a grub-cereal box?! Do you even know what the fucking fallback protocols are? Did you get an automated distress notification?!”

Horuss looked confused – he was perhaps mechanically inclined and technically savvy, but Fleet protocols were mere window-dressing to him. But Mituna had spent three sweeps in the Fleet – Meenah was listening to him.

“If the dock stopped being able to communicate for some reason, they’d fall back to the ship that’s docked there… what’s the ship name? All we have is the fucking dock tag!”

“It’s the Pinnacle, a recently-converted–”

Mituna cut him off – “What did you fucking say?” He had that look in his eyes again. “That’s Meulin’s ship… the last ship…” His eyes were watering.

Horuss looked oblivious to the range of emotions Mituna was currently experiencing. “As I was saying, good sir, the Pinnacle has recently been converted from a dropship to a fully-outfitted electronic and Felt warfare vessel. Absolutely top of the line!”

Mituna grabbed Meenah’s arm and pulled her away from Horuss and Vriska.

“Look,” he hissed under his breath, “this can’t be a fucking coincidence! Kurloz and Meulin are gone, Scratch is just kind of… out there, somewhere. Suddenly they’re up on the ship Meulin was stationed on that just so happens to have been converted to a fucking _electronic warfare platform!_ ”

Meenah’s mind raced back to the drones that had attacked her apartment. If she’d been just a little bit slower…

“So what the fuck do we do?!” Meenah growled – her patience was wearing out.

“There should be a dockmaster access key to Pinnacle – to contact the ship’s commander or, if they’re unavailable, to ping the ship systems. It’ll use the Felt to relay through to the system – but they should be close enough to a relay that it’ll work.”

Meenah nodded and walked back toward Vriska. “Let him go.”

Vriska turned, gun still in hand, and smiled. “Excuse me? You think you’re such hot shit now? You gave up any claim you had to your hatching rights when you–”

If there was more, Vriska never got a chance to say it. Meenah had punched her hard in the stomach and grabbed the gun before she could react. Despite Vriska’s training, Meenah could feel the anger surging through her – it lit every one of her senses up and made her want to tear Vriska’s spine out through her throat. She pointed the pistol at Vriska’s head.

“I should do it. Should do what you did to Aranea.” Her voice was cold – the emotion all drained out. “Tell me why not. Tell me why she deserved to die and you don’t.”

A hand on her shoulder – Damara – he grip was firm, but not unkind.

“She’s still out only way inside of this thing.” The voice was unusually quiet. “I want to see her dead too, for what she did. Aranea was my friend.”

Something inside Meenah finally crumbled and fell away and she felt her eyes burning with tears that had been held back for far too long. Without another word, she handed the pistol to Damara.

She sobbed, heavily, and backed away. She wanted for this to be a dream – to wake up and it was still… any time before Aranea died, honestly. They should’ve been on a trans-light ship out to a new life by now – should never have been involved in any of this. And whatever Scratch had planned for Alternia he could have it – could take the whole damned planet and burn it for all she cared. What was left to her? What small comfort was left Meenah Peixes when all was said and done and finished?

Mituna was talking to Horuss in a low voice and the two of them were nodding along. Finally, Mituna walked to Horuss’ Felt terminal and began tapping commands. Part of Meenah was curious, but she knew that she wouldn’t understand half of what she was seeing. The other part just didn’t care anymore.

Meenah sat down on the floor.

She put her head in her hands.

And finally, not caring what was happening around her, she cried.

* * *

“NO!”

Mituna’s shout was enough to drag Meenah up from the grief she was rapidly sinking down into. She struggled to her feet and looked over – Mituna and Horuss were clustered around the Felt terminal. Vriska was sitting on the floor, leaned against the wall. Damara was standing, still holding the pistol. They were all looking at Mituna.

“This isn’t fucking _possible!_ ”

Meenah was done – she’d had enough mystery and vagueness for one lifetime. “What the hell is it?!”

“He’s on the ship and he just locked us out!” Mituna was shaking and tapping frantically at the keyboard. Whatever he was trying to do wasn’t working. “Locked us out of everything!”

The floor was dropping away again – the hole was getting wider. Something bad was about to happen. She could feel it.

“Not just the ship… _everything!_ ”

Meenah glared. “Fucking _what?!_ ”

“Orbital systems… surveillance systems… oh god…” Mituna shook his head, his face blurry with tears. “He’s tasked the defense platforms with targeting data!”

The Felt terminal blinked, and Meenah saw what was on the screen. She moved closer – just to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

Burning text, the color of white phosphorus.

? < This message is being broadcast to all open channels.   
? < The Alternian Empire is a failed state. It has oppressed its people for too long.   
? < Today, I offer you a better way.   
? < And, of course, I offer you a suitable display of my abilities.   
? < I feel that I must thank those who helped me attain this position…   
? < although honestly there are so many names.   
? < I will say this, though.   
? < Darling Kanaya – if you are reading this – I am sorry.   
? < Your office was so instrumental, albeit unknowingly.   
? < But for the secrets it holds, I fear I must take action.   
? < Good bye.

“Oh no, this is most unwelcome!” Horuss sounded almost underwhelmed. “One of the orbital defense platforms has initiated its targeting sequence.”

“ _Where is it aiming?!_ ” Vriska was on her feet and she looked…

She looked afraid. It was the first time that Meenah remembered seeing genuine emotion in her face.

“Fuck!” Mituna slammed the keyboard. “We’re completely locked out!”

Horuss shook his head. “The platform appears to be targeting the First Fleet Research and Development Command.”

“No! _No, no no!_ Call them! Fucking _warn them!_ ” Vriska’s voice was rising into sheer panic – unfettered terror. And Meenah finally realized there was something she cared about after all.

_ Someone _ she cared about – even if only the smallest bit. It was enough.

Meenah felt a pang of guilt that she was smiling on the inside. That maybe she shouldn’t be feeling like this. But she couldn’t help it.

“Our remaining satellites confirm the platform has just launched a kinetic projectile. Five minutes to impact!” Horuss stepped back from the terminal. “Oh goodness.”

“ _Fucking do something!_ ” Vriska was on her feet and grabbing Mituna. “Call them! Warn them! Fucking do _something!_ ”

Vriska grabbed the hardline phone receiver from the cradle on the desk by the Felt terminal – she rapidly punched in a number.

“Why isn’t it _working?!_ It’s a fucking hardline!” She slammed the receiver back down.

“The switching hardware is still connected to the networks…” Mituna shook his head. “He’s blocking the signal at their end. Because he never really left the R&D network… he was just… waiting.”

Vriska screamed. She smashed at the keyboard with her metal arm, sending bits of plastic flying. She screamed. She battered the top of the terminal monitor as if that would somehow stop what was happening. She screamed.

She fell to the floor and pounded her fist in front of her, sobbing.

“Just… fucking… _do_ something.”

“The complex does have a warning system – it should have sounded already.” Horuss didn’t sound convinced that this would make a difference.

“I can’t…” Vriska was doubled over.

Time seemed to drag – the moments taking far too long to pass by.

Mituna’s voice this time – too small – too far away.

“It… the… First Fleet R&D was just hit… satellites are confirming that the tower was wiped out…” he fell silent.

Vriska screamed – a sound that Meenah never thought she’d hear come from the bitch’s throat. Because she had been sure that Vriska only cared about herself.

Maybe not.

Meenah smiled to herself – and again, she felt a little bit guilty…

Serves you right, you goddamn bitch.


	43. Aftershock

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Alternian Electronic Warfare Ship Pinnacle, Low Orbit over Alternia**

Without even knowing it, she had let him in the door. A long-forgotten key, buried deep inside her aging Felt interface – the pairing code that had been assigned to her when she was stationed on the Pinnacle. A pairing code that, in the chaos of the evacuation of Colony World 5672A, had never actually been cleared from the aging security system. Traces of traces – the last remnants of a backdoor that had given Scratch that single sliver of an opening he needed to pry the whole thing open.

Now she watched in silent horror as the first fires burned below. She couldn’t see the results, but she knew what had happened. Aradia had told her.

Aradia.

Aradia – who looked down when she signed the news. Meulin was familiar with the weapon used from her Army training. Kinetic Orbital Assault Platforms – stations that accelerated massive rods of varying sizes to the planet below, letting physics do the real work. The targeting, the firing, the destruction… it was all just physics. The kinetic rod had impacted directly into the command tower of the First Fleet’s research and development center.

There would be no survivors.

Meulin stood at the window of the forward observation deck and watched the world below her start to burn. She couldn’t see the fires, of course – but they were there all the same. The R&D center was only the first of many. The Alternian Fleet was surely scrambling now – rushing to bring intercept craft and planetary defense weapons online.

It wouldn’t work. They’d let the cancer get too deep in – too close to the bone marrow now.

A hand on her shoulder – she turned to see Kurloz standing there, his face grim.

Sister, how’re you holding up?

It was unreal – that he seemed like such a different person than the one she’d known when she was first leaving the Army. The one who’d been so gentle and kind. Now there was a hard edge to him that reminded her too much of herself.

What the fuck do you mean? Do you see what he’s doing out there? She shook her head angrily. 

Maybe it’s for the best. His face was sad – he looked out the window of the observation deck – the same window that Meulin had spent so many hours staring out of while she was underway. The strange way that space warped while they were moving at trans-light – the way that the planets glistened underneath. The way that they burned in the darkness of space, when all was said and done. This was the same thing the Fleet had done on countless worlds. A difference only in the smallest degree – in the specifics of who was in charge. 

You’ve never seen it before. What they did to those places… worlds consumed by fire. Because they were rebels… or terrorists… or whatever word they chose to lie to us about what a threat they were.

There was a reckoning coming – a time to rebel against the Empire. We both knew it.

Bullshit! She slapped her hands together angrily. I just wanted to be able to sleep at night without hearing the screams in my ears! To be able to exist without being pulled back in again and again… I know what I am…

She could feel the tears on her cheeks. Kurloz was looking at her and something in his face seemed to crack – to falter for a brief second. And she realized something…

He felt the same way she did. There was the same feeling of betrayal and hatred for the way things were. She wanted to escape the system, he wanted to try to burn it to the ground. Meulin leaned against Kurloz and he put his arms around her.

I know how you feel about them. But… you’ve never been part of that machine. A piece of a weapon that’s aimed wherever they need it to be aimed. And you tell yourself that it’s okay. Over and over, that’s what you say. She wiped her eyes with the back off her hand. 

It’s okay because the people you’re fighting are bad people who want to hurt others. But what sense does that make? A colony that’s days or months from Alternia even by trans-light? With no warships and no army? People fighting for their homes! Eyes shut tight – she bowed her head. How many of those people had she killed? For what? A bump in her stipend and a lifetime of nothing but silence? 

He squeezed her shoulders and leaned up against her, pressing in close. She could feel him breathing… and she wanted to be gone from all this. They could find Mituna and run away. To the furthest reaches of the habitable colonies if they wanted. She had already tried to make a comfortable life on Alternia… it hadn’t worked.

The Order used to say we’re not bound by our past, sister. He signed with his free hand and kept holding her. I don’t know what I believe from them… but I do believe in that. Whatever you were, once… you don’t have to be that thing anymore.

A weapon. I was a weapon. Because… because it was easier than the alternative. Because I convinced myself it was the only way.

With a sudden start, Kurloz turned to look at something… a Meulin could see the faint, ghostly reflection in the half-mirror formed by the window.

Aradia.

Meulin turned and glared.

We need to talk and it needs to be quick. Before he catches on.

It took her a second to register. Why should we listen? Why should I care what you have to say?

Because I know what it feels like to be a weapon.

Their eyes locked for a second, and Meulin could see it all there. Sweeps of pain and anguish – the knowledge that their existence had been a lie in service of tyrants – the desire to finally do something good and right at the end of it all.

Aradia knew something that she didn’t.

What is it? How do I know Scratch won’t be listening in this? Doesn’t he have cameras everywhere?

He does. But we’re signing.

Meulin wanted to scream – So fucking what? He’s probably already learned it – he’s an advanced artificial intelligence – did you forget about that part?

A look came across Aradia’s face – something Meulin didn’t quite know how to place. She… smiled…

No.

Why the  _ hell _ was she smiling?

He’s not.

Aradia looked out the window – her eyes were following the line of the planet’s curve, all the way toward the Green Moon.

* * *

**Sweeps in the Past** **  
** **Imperial Fleet Carrier Aspire**

Corporal Meulin Leijon’s head hurt all the time lately. It was four day-cycles after she rotated on the ship that she’d been told by the unit Sub-Commander to pack her shit up – she was being moved to a berth at the front of the ship and temporarily re-assigned to Felt training for the duration of her tour aboard the Aspire.   
  
That meant she was probably in line for promotion up to Sub-Sergeant on her next rotation. Technically the next rank in line was a Specialist, but they usually skipped olive bloods right past that. The gold bloods – the ones they claimed had an innate connection to the Felt – they got shuffled down to Specialist and they stayed there because they were useful. But everyone from the golds on up got tapped for Felt training if they needed it. It seemed odd to Meulin, but she tried not to think about it. That had gotten her this far, at least.   
  
And now her head hurt.   
  
All the time.   
  


* * *

  
  
She was the only member of her class – if you could call it that – that was a basic ground-pounding olive grunt. The ones who were really destined to dive the Felt for their careers got their training back on Alternia. Most of the others were jade bloods – the officers who might need the Felt connection to do their job as commanders on smaller vessels. One classmate was a cerulean blood undergoing re-introduction after some kind of incident with their wetware. That made Meulin a little bit nervous – the idea that something could get inside her brain like that. Work its way inside.   
  
She spent most of her downtime sleeping… or trying to sleep. The candidates for Felt training were segregated out in the front portion of the ship in their own little set of facilities. Even their mess hall was separate from the rest. Being a lower blood caste than the rest, Meulin found herself typically doing everything alone and missing the other members of her squad. It was lonely and it was boring. She’d run out of reading material after a couple perigees and getting more wasn’t worth the hassle of dealing with the exchange.   
  
There was one other member of the class who always seemed to be by herself – a blue blood who was always apart from the others. They seemed afraid to talk to her. Something in the way she looked at them was enough to make them keep their distance. She wore a uniform different from the rest – a plain black jumpsuit with a simple unit patch… a wide-open eye with a dagger behind it.   
  
She was never in the normal training sessions with the rest, but she had the haggard look of the rest of them. She was training for something, but Meulin had no idea what.   
  
After a perigee, Meulin finally got up the courage to ask one of the other candidates about her – she asked one of the jade bloods if he knew anything. The jades weren’t the highest on the ladder by far, but they always seemed to have useful information. Benefits of being somewhat invisible and often in critical support roles.   
  
The jade blood told her not to ask questions.   
  
That night, Meulin looked through the comprehensive unit insignia database that was available for the use of all Alternian Military personnel.   
  
The eye-and-dagger wasn’t in the registry.   
  


* * *

  
  
One time, Meulin had fallen asleep in the briefing room, tucked down behind one of the chairs. She’d been in there early because she didn’t want to miss the briefing later that cycle, but she was so tired. To compromise, she decided to nap on the floor and wait for the bustle of everyone coming into the briefing to wake her.   
  
Instead, she woke to the sound of hushed voices from the front of the room. Meulin stayed hidden and quiet – and she listened.   
  
She didn’t look to see who was talking, but she recognized the voices of at least one of the jade blood candidates. The cute woman she’d had a bit of a crush on, if she was being honest.   
  
“I’m telling you, she’s here for Deep Felt training! That’s why she’s never with the rest of us!”   
  
A deep voice responded – one that belonged to another jade blood. “I heard she was with Spire.”   
  
A laugh. “Spire’s a wiggler’s tale, you goddamn idiot.”   
  
“It’s not! One of the Over-Sergeants on my last deployment got drunk and started talking about them! Said they just showed up one day and took over a whole carrier deck for some kind of project. Wouldn’t let anyone near – they had their own security! Over-Commander showed up and ripped him a new waste chute!”   
  
“Bullshit!” Deep voice again. “The whole Fleet is full of stupid stories for stupid grubs who don’t know any better.”   
  
“Whatever. I just thought you should know…”   
  
The voices faded out and they left the briefing room. And Meulin didn’t go back to sleep…   
  
She just thought about the haunted look in the eyes of the blue blood. About the ever-watching eye on her uniform. About all the secrets that the Alternian Fleet had to hide.

* * *

Have you ever heard the name “Spire” before?

Meulin felt a deep chill down her back. She was a Corporal again, lying on the floor of a briefing room on the Fleet Carrier Aspire. She was looking into the hollow gaze of a blue blood with a blacked-out uniform and a patch that didn’t exist in the registry.

Once. When I was deployed.

Kurloz shook his head. Sister Aradia, what the ever-loving fuck is going on here?

There’s more happening here than you think. Scratch isn’t an artificial intelligence… not really. He’s a… he WAS an Alternian. A mutant, I think. I’ve tried to find out as much as I could without him finding out but… it’s hard.

What is Spire?

Aradia nodded. Right. Spire was… is the Alternian secret projects division. They’re off the books but I know they operated out of a base on the far side of the Green Moon.

Operated? Like… they don’t anymore?

I don’t know. Aradia shrugged. As far as I can tell, the program was boxed up about five sweeps ago. But that’s not the point!

Scratch?

She nodded, vigorously. Exactly! Scratch was never an artificial intelligence – he was the result of an attempt at making a living computer.

Meulin squinted, trying to take all of this in. What do you mean? A living computer to do what?

Everything. The idea was to take a consciousness and plug it directly into the Deep Felt. The body would be left somewhere in a preserved state and the mind would exist as a construct. The hope was to eventually divorce the mind and body completely - to make a soldier who could freely navigate the Felt without any ill effects. Artificial intelligence was a joke – the processing required was too much – so they decided to cheat a little and use a living host.

It felt like there was going to be a massive catch coming up in this story. What happened?

While I was with the Authority, we were tracking all kinds of rumors about Spire and what they were working on. Rumors about a renegade faction within the group. But even we weren’t allowed to know all the details – it was frustrating.

She paused, thinking.

There was an AIS agent named Vriska – she was tracking some of the same stuff we were, but we suspected she was involved directly. I think we were wrong now but… at the time we were convinced. We rigged an explosive device and… it ended up hurting her quite badly. A look of regret crossed Aradia’s face – Meulin wondered if she’d feel the same way if she saw what Vriska had become inside of the Authority. 

The official narrative that the Authority spread, and that most of them genuinely believe, is that Scratch was a rogue AI who was able to spread himself out into the Felt.

That’s not even a little bit true, is it?

It has a grain of truth… Scratch is out in the Felt. Because whoever they chose for this project was immensely skilled at navigating the Deep Felt.

You don’t know who?

No. The base on the Green Moon was put into permanent shutdown, but the subject himself was lost. I was only able to get one piece of information... that he had been on a ship somewhere in the Far Reaches.

The fabled end of known space. Where no one ever went. Why? Why is he out there then?

Did they teach you about the Deep Felt in your training? Don’t answer… I know they would’ve mentioned it, but they never talked about what it is. The Felt is a kind of aetherial connection to everything that can send or receive a signal – to electronics and communications devices and what-not. The Deep Felt…

She paused again, struggling for the words and the signs to express them. The Deep Felt is something else. Something older and more terrifying – it taps into an immense cosmic force that we can barely even begin to define, let alone comprehend. But someone figured out a way to ride on the very edge of that force – to use it without truly understanding it.

Beyond the Far Reaches, there’s something out there. Something very, very old. Older than the Empress… older than any of us. I suspect the Empress feels the call of this… thing. I think that’s what drives her to conquer worlds – that one day she might hold even a fraction of that power.

You’re saying Scratch wants that same power?

She shook her head vigorously. No! I’m saying that he already exists on the edge of that world… but the bleed between the Deep Felt and our world is weak except around the edges our technology creates. Even Scratch, as powerful as he is, has limitations and weaknesses.

So that’s what he’s doing? Fixing his weaknesses?

After a fashion, yes. It’s all in service to an end goal.

Kurloz tapped his hands together. Of course, sister! He spoke of destroying the Empire! Of bringing equality!

Aradia laughed – a silent display. Destroy the Empire? Scratch doesn’t want to destroy the Empire – he wants to control it!


	44. Outbound Traffic

Sister, what lies have they been feeding you? The Authority… the Devils… I don’t even know who anymore!

None of it was making any sense – the more he learned Scratch and the Authority and whoever the hell this Aradia person was… the less and less it made sense. Lies! Lies formed by the Devil that lived inside all of them. Lies designed to distract from the perfect peace of the Mirthful Ones.

But they were lies too. Nothing was true. Nothing but the cold, harsh, unrelenting reality that was in front of him.

He felt a hand on his and looked down to see Meulin holding his hand. She signed quickly with the other hand, her fingers dancing in the air. I think she’s telling the truth. None of this ever seemed right – not since the beginning.

Kurloz sighed and looked at Aradia. What now?

Scratch is hard to understand – he doesn’t WANT to kill, but he won’t hesitate to do it to achieve his goals. We need to get off this ship without him noticing.

How the fuck is that supposed to happen, sister?! It was an impossible goal. Scratch had already shown he was nearly all-seeing when plugged into the Felt.

Because for the next half hour or so, he’ll be distracted. Getting access to this ship has given Scratch control over so much of the Alternian systems…

“Why let him do it, you motherfucking fool?!” Kurloz couldn’t help himself. Aradia glanced around quickly and put a finger to her lips.

Shut the hell up! He might not be able to read sign, but he can sure as fuck hear you shouting! I’ll tell you once we’re off the ship!

You’re going to use the coffins, aren’t you?

Kurloz shook his head – it still made no sense! Coffins?

When Aradia signed her response, she was glaring. The individual drop pods. The ship still has several from when it was a dropship. Meulin will know how to work them.

Kurloz felt his hand get squeezed tightly, and he looked down to see Meulin’s face lined with pain. She didn’t want to go into the drop pods. Given what had happened the last time she was on this ship, Kurloz couldn’t blame her. He squeezed her hand back and smiled.

You okay?

She shook her head. No, of course not. But I don’t think we have a choice. The coffins… sorry, the pods… they’re designed to avoid detection during their drop. The ship won’t be able to track them – Scratch won’t know where we’re going.

He didn’t trust her – didn’t trust any of them. Didn’t see how this bastard was any different than the bastard that murdered Sister Aranea. Why the motherfuck should we listen to you?

Aradia shrugged – she didn’t care. Listen or don’t – that’s your decision. This will be easier if you help me, but it’s not essential. If you’d rather remain on this ship with a bunch of corpses being manipulated by Scratch… I suppose I can’t stop you.

But when she put it like that, what choice did he have? Scratch was a liar. The Authority were liars. All the Empire was overrun with liars. What difference would it make to follow this liar over another? Except that Aradia was telling the truth. Somehow, he knew it – had no particular reason to think it, but she wasn’t lying to them.

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve saved everyone – even if they’re Authority. The dead don’t get a chance at redemption… they’re just gone. She looked down at the ground and her hands fell to her side. She didn’t look like a servant of the devils of the world – just like a haunted, regretful woman who wished she’d been able to make different choices.

Where are we going?

* * *

Aradia walked carefully between the rows of drop pods, checking everything as she went.

I’m going to fire off all the pods – to anyone not looking too closely it’ll look like Scratch did it, or like a systems error. Scratch is too busy holding a gun to the world’s head right now to look too closely at this.

Meulin stepped inside one of the pods – she was shaking. From the look on her face, this was the last place she wanted to be.

Kittybitches stay strong. Kurloz smiled at her and she returned it weakly.

Last time I was in one of these, it didn’t end well. Stick with you. She settled back into the pod, its compartment barely big enough for a single soldier and their gear. I’ll see you on the ground, okay?

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, lingering for a moment. See you on the ground.

The pod hatch closed with a soft click as the sealed latches engaged. There were no windows – they really did look like large metal coffins. Kurloz selected another pod at random and stepped inside – the fit was snug but not uncomfortable and the padded seat flowed around him as he sank into it. Aradia helped him adjust the straps and leaned in.

“I’m programming these to land close enough that we’ll be able to find each other. You just stay put and let the people with land navigation training come to you, okay?” Her voice was low, barely audible over the mechanical hum of the launch bay.

Kurloz narrowed his eyes. “What if the Devil catches on?”

She laughed. “Then we’ll all be dead before we hit the ground and we won’t have to worry about any of this.”

With that reassuring final thought, Aradia closed the hatch and Kurloz was immersed in darkness, broken only by the dim red lighting emanating from small strips along the floor of the drop pod. He’d never been buried alive, of course, but Kurloz imagined that this must be what it was like. The pod felt smaller and smaller – suffocating – panic-inducing. His fingers clenched the handle that was provided for, he imagined, exactly that purpose.

He waited.

What felt like a half-eternity later, there was a loud mechanical shifting noise and the pod began to move. He couldn’t see any of it, but he knew that the bay was opening and preparing the launch sequence, already programmed in. Another moment…

The floor dropped away and he was falling, the pod rapidly picking up speed at it burned in through the atmosphere. The experience was unlike anything Kurloz had ever experienced – he clenched the hand-holds for dear life and gritted his teeth. After a minute, his stomach finally caught up to the rest of his body and the sensation of crawling panic started to give way to a rush of excitement. If only he could see the stained jewel of Alternia below – that would at least give him some sense of where he was.

The pod rocked and rumbled as it hit the atmosphere. Kurloz knew that it was almost over – that soon the white-hot fire would tear through the pod’s shielding and consume him. He was ready, he supposed. Ready for whatever was waiting for him on the other side. Given everything he’d seen so far, it couldn’t be that bad.

But that expected fate failed to arrive. Instead, the pod stabilized and Kurloz felt his stomach rushing back up as it slowed its descent. It would be deploying the rotary stabilizers that would slow and control the pod as it made its final arrival. Meulin had assured him that while the final impact would be profoundly unpleasant, it would be absolutely survivable.

With a listing turn, the pod changed course and straightened out. This would be the final approach now – he was soon going to be breathing the fresh air of Alternia again.

When the impact came, Kurloz was utterly unprepared for it. The pod hit the ground with a jarring thud and the shock went straight up through his back. Even with the padded seat, it was painful. After a dazed few moments, the pod’s hatch automatically blew its safety bolts and fell away. The light and air and noise streamed in from outside. From the surroundings, he knew they were somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

Fumbling with his restraints, Kurloz finally freed himself and stumbled out into the open air. He was careful not to the touch the drop pod – he could feel the heat radiating off the side even from a distance. A short ways away, Kurloz sat down to wait.

The pod had brought him down in the middle of a thin stand of trees in a small valley. It was cool and pleasant, and Kurloz found himself wanting to stay there for longer than he knew he’d be able to. It brought a sense of peace that he hadn’t had for some time.

* * *

Aradia and Meulin arrived together. Kurloz waved when he saw them walking over the hill – then Meulin broke into a run and ended up wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him. He stayed like that for a minute, enjoying the fact that he hadn’t died earlier.

“We need to get going,” Aradia’s voice was cold. Kurloz looked over at her and shook his head silently.

“No, really,” she insisted. “The pods are scattered and far out enough that Scratch might take a bit to figure this out, but there is a chance that he’ll figure it out. You think he’ll hesitate to send another orbital rod down on our heads?”

She had a point. Kurloz let go of Meulin and stepped back. Where the fuck are we even going?

We’re going to see an… associate of mine. Cronus Ampora.

That shifty piece of shit? Why? I thought his shop and everything was destroyed. Meulin was scowling at Aradia.

The shop that everyone knew about. He has another, less on-the-books location he keeps his private collection. And he has something that we need.

What does that motherfucker have we could possibly need?

Once again, Aradia smiled… the same way she had when she’d told them about Scratch. It was the smile of someone who knew far more than they were talking about.

He has the last useful thing that Spire ever developed. We’re going to use it to put an end to this.

“Wait a minute, sister,” Kurloz spoke without thinking – it probably didn’t matter, out in the open like this. “What the fuck do you mean by _this?!_ ”

“Oh, everything,” she responded. “Scratch. The Empire. All of it.”

* * *

I still see their faces.

They were walking along the hillsides, taking a route to Cronus’ hidden workshop that would keep them out of sight of any surveillance drones. Aradia was up ahead, keeping the pace and leading the way. Meulin and Kurloz followed behind, finally getting a chance to talk.

All of them. I see them lying in that ditch… all blood and broken bones and… She shivered. I can’t take it anymore. It just keeps getting worse.

What can I do, sister? How can I help?

She sighed. I don’t know. I thought… what we had together – you and Mituna and me. I thought that was really helping. But then everything kept falling apart. Again and again and again.

When this is over, we should get away from this place. He’d been thinking about it – the plan was only half-formed, but he knew it needed to happen. He’d felt such anger towards the whole system – towards the Empire. He still wanted to see it burn, but also… he was so very tired. 

If this is over, you mean. It doesn’t feel like it’ll end. Scratch was playing such a long game. Before we even appeared in it.

What other choice do we have, sister? Play until the end, then pick up the pieces and try to move on.

You’re right. I just wanted things to be quiet for once. She laughed. Maybe not THIS quiet. She gestured to her ears and made a face. 

You’re amazing, kittybitch.

She shrugged. I survive. It’s what I do.

They all survived.

It was what they did.


	45. Frequency

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Mituna glared at the readout and tapped the screen – as if that made any kind of difference. “What the fuck is going on up there?”

He’d retained control of a few systems – Scratch was apparently very busy with all the different parts to his plan and it was taxing whatever systems he was running off of. Mituna had enough to be able to read sensor input from the satellites, although he got the sense that if he tried to re-task anything he’d get slapped down by Scratch.

“What? What the hell is it?” Meenah was over his shoulder, leaning up against him and staring at the terminal screen.

“The Pinnacle just launched all of its drop pods, all at once. I can’t tell where they’re going or why, but…” he gestured at the screen – there it was.

“He’s gotta be doing something – a distraction… an attack?” Meenah sounded more confused than anything, and Mituna couldn’t blame her.

“Why?” He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Why bother? He’s in control of basically everything.”

“Yeah, but…” she trailed off and shoved off of his shoulder, walking back across the room and settling into a corner next to Damara, who had taken a seat on the ground. The rust blood was clutching her stomach – Mituna didn’t know what that was about, but he didn’t imagine it was a good thing.

His own head was splitting, but he’d gotten to the point where that was just going to be normal. The longer he stayed in the Felt, the worse it had gotten – to the point where it seemed like his wetware interface was going to just burrow itself in through his temple and hollow out his brain. That was absurd… but it still hurt like hell and wouldn’t stop.

The terminal in front of him blinked, and the color of text he least wanted to see lit up the screen.

? < Alternia, your false gods have failed you!   
? < Hidden behind promises of better lives for all!   
? < But they build their machines for war!   
? < Now see how they fall!

“Uh…” Mituna glanced over at Horuss. “Would you say this facility is critical to Scratch’s possible plans?”

“I’d say that’s a strong possibility, my good sir,” Horuss nodded. “We’re one of the only heavy launch capable facilities on Alternia. Why?”

“Because he’s about to blow something up.” Mituna checked the satellite readouts – there was no way to know what Scratch was planning to fire on before he actually did it. Unless he planned another announcement.

? < The seat of Alternia’s illegitimate government has stood for too long!   
? < See how easily I can destroy it?   
? < See how fragile your rulers really are?

“He’s going to attack the Capitol,” Mituna shouted back to Horuss. He had no idea what anyone was supposed to actually  _ do _ with that information – there was no way for them to warn anyone in time.

All Mituna could do was watch helplessly as one of the satellites cycled up and launched another one of the kinetic rods. Five minutes of suspense… then the dull, emotionless impact report from the satellite monitors. A bland, sterile way to portray an act of horrific destruction. There were, after all, plenty of citizens simply living near the Capitol. Mituna knew from his days in the Fleet that the kinetic projectiles were hardly precision weapons. They might cause less collateral damage than an explosive, but that was all a matter of degree.

Blocks were leveled by the blast from the impact. People died.

? < You rely on your tools – your war machines – your networks.   
? < You rely on technology.   
? < What will you do when it turns against you?   
INCOMING TIGHT BEAM BURNER TRANSMISSION

Mituna blinked at the last line. “Horuss, what places can send tight-beam to this facility?”

Horuss walked over to the terminal. “Only the docks and the ships attached to them. The relay is on the dock itself, slaved to a dedicated array here for emergencies only.”

“Can the transmissions be intercepted through the Felt or networks?”

Horuss shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible, but they’re designed to self-destruct if inspected by someone other than the paired keyholder.”

“I know how burners work, dammit,” Mituna was getting annoyed with Horuss. “I just need to know if Scratch is going to see this as soon as I open it.”

“No?” Horuss didn’t sound even remotely sure.

Oh fuck it.

| OPEN BURNER   
=== BURNER BEGIN ===   
(B) A < Crony   
=== BURNER END ===

“What the fuck is a Crony?” Mituna stared at the screen. It blinked… and the burner message self-destructed.

He heard Meenah’s voice from the corner of the room. “What did you just say?”

“I asked what a Crony is.” He looked back and saw Meenah getting to her feet – she had a strange expression in her eyes and Mituna wasn’t sure he approved. “It… uh… just appeared as a burner message on the terminal. No explanation.”

“Oh shit! I know where the fuck they’re at!” She slapped her knee and grinned.

“Is that – is that information you were planning on sharing with us at some point?” Mituna shook his head, now thoroughly confused.

Meenah narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you think you could distract Scratch?”

He almost laughed in her face – there was no way she was seriously suggesting this. But she wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t smiling. She was dead serious.

“I’m sorry,” Mituna replied. “Did you just ask me if I can distract the fucking rogue AI that’s just blown up two major targets and is slowly but surely gaining access to all of the Alternian military systems?”

“Yes.” Meenah’s voice was calm – she wasn’t kidding. “I don’t need a lot, just for him to not notice when we take a rotary aircraft out for a little spin. I know where they’re going… or at least I know where Aradia is going.”

“Which would be?” Mituna was almost afraid to ask.

“Cronus Ampora’s off-grid workshop. I know where it is. I’m guessing that Aradia does too. I’ll bet the pods were all launched to conceal where at least one of them landed.”

If Aradia was tipping them off, that meant either she was trying to lure them into a trap… which seemed considerably unlikely given that Scratch had progressed to simply outright attacking the empire. Or she was trying to let them know that she wasn’t on Scratch’s side.

Meenah leaned in close and whispered in Mituna’s ear – “I’m taking Latula and Damara with me… I don’t trust Vriska at all.”

“What about Porrim?” Mituna saw Meenah’s face flush as she turned her eyes down.

“I… I don’t think Porrim will be useful for this.”

Nice save, Peixes. Very smooth.

“Okay, fine – I’ll see what I can do.” And Mituna started to type.

* * *

The radio handset was outdated, but it was functional and it would be difficult to monitor through the Felt from any great distance. Despite his power over the system, Scratch would have a hard time tapping into local channels while his attention was divided by everything he was doing.

“Okay,” Mituna spoke into the handset. “I’m going to do this. He’s going to shut it down fast, so I hope you’re moving fast.”

Meenah: Bitch, we’re moving _so_ goddamn fast!   
Damara: Buy us a half hour and we should be good.

There was no way that Scratch was monitoring every piece of traffic on the whole planet – that was absurd. As long as he didn’t suspect that someone from the launch center was planning anything.

| RETASK SATELLITE A*   
PLEASE ENTER TASKING PROGRAM   
| SURVEILLANCE TASK D

Mituna sat back and watched the satellite feeds – it was only a matter of time now. There was no way that Scratch wouldn’t notice two dozen satellites suddenly changing course.

The first one went offline, then the second. One of the remaining satellites confirmed that there’d been launches from one of the orbital platforms - a kinetic munitions designed to take out vehicles. And satellites.

In spite of the pain in his head. In spite of the last few day-cycles of hell. In spite of everything, Mituna smiled to himself. Scratch was going to destroy the satellites because he didn’t know what was happening with them. That would take out some of their ability to see things, but it would end up hurting Scratch even more. He was connected to the entirety of the Alternian military surveillance network now, and the more that network disappeared the less he had to work with. He was poking out his own eyes.

Mituna grabbed the radio again. “He’s plinking the satellites. You’ve got some time, but move fast.”

A long pause.

Latula: We’re on our way. Hey…   
Latula: Stay safe, and… I’m sorry.

He sighed to himself – the pain was still there, but the anger wasn’t. He’d meant what he said in the van. All of it.

“I forgive you. Keep the channel clear and stay safe – I’ll see you when you’re done.” He set the handset down.

From the corner of the room, he heard Vriska laugh. “You’re all so _sweet_ it makes me want to vomit.”

Another voice from the other side of the room – Porrim – “Can you stop talking? You’ve already done enough damage.”

Another laugh – Mituna couldn’t place it but she sounded _wrong._ “What are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me? What can you possibly take away from me that I haven’t already lost? Two people I genuinely fucking cared about and one of them in ash in a smoking crater and the other one is… I don’t know.”

He almost felt sorry for her – almost. But what she’d done to Aranea…

“And why should we feel bad about your loss?” Porrim asked. “You clearly have no such empathy for our own plight. If anything, you’ve made everything worse.”

Vriska snarled. “Oh fuck off! There’s only one jade blood I ever gave a shit about and you’re not worth half what she–” she suddenly stopped, as if she realized she was giving them more than she wanted to – showing too many gaps in her armor. “Just shut up!”

Mituna turned away from them and back to the satellite feeds. More than half the satellites had already been picked off by Scratch’s orbital munitions. Hopefully it would be enough – it had to be enough. If he kept trying to push his luck, there was a chance that Scratch would figure out what he was doing. Not only that, he’d have less and less active satellites to provide him with any view into what was happening out there. It had become a complex balancing act.

“You’re out of your minds if you think Aradia is any more trustworthy than I am. Bitch blew up my damn arm.” She flexed her metal arm and her mechanical eye twitched.

“Maybe sort that out on your own time,” Porrim snapped at Vriska. She walked over to where Mituna was sitting in front of the terminal. “Can you track the rotary?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry – I don’t want to do anything that might draw attention to them.”

“Yeah… that’s probably a good thing.” She sounded terrified. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Mituna’s thoughts indexed through everyone on the rotary and it clicked why she and Meenah had arrived together. “I don’t think she’s ever going to feel the way that you do about her. Not now… maybe not ever.”

“I know that.” Porrim closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s not like that anyway. It was a comfort thing… for both of us. But I’m not in the habit of wishing death on my lovers.”


	46. Arbitrary Complexity

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **North Alternian**

Cronus didn’t think anyone knew about the little hole he ran off to when he was threatened, but Meenah did. The little fucking ratbeast could run and hide and go where the light didn’t follow – but she would always find him.

The bitch Vriska was back at the launch center. The rotary aircraft that had dropped them off was waiting a fifteen minute walk away. The only people with her were Latula and Damara – people she trusted. The Authority wasn’t watching and Scratch was too busy taking over the world to notice the movements of a few small insects beneath his gaze.

Meenah was going to burn them all to the ground. Scratch and the Authority – all of them. The only thing she’d wanted – the one goal that had kept driving her – was the desire to escape the role that her place in the hemospectrum basically guaranteed. To be seen as better than the rest, and therefore worthy to oppress others. The Authority wanted to maintain that system at any cost, and Scratch wanted to replace it with a different-but-similar one that put him on top. Scratch had taken the woman she cared about…

Loved.

Scratch had taken the woman she loved and hurt her – turned her into a pawn. And the Authority… they’d killed her without so much as a second thought.

She was angry. She was furious. She would rip the entire thing to the ground if she could. Meenah had wanted to escape from everything – to start a new life in a place that didn’t even know her name. A place where the color of her blood didn’t matter because everyone was working toward the same goal. In any meaningful sense of the word, that had been taken from her.

Cronus’ little hidey-hole of a workshop slowly emerged out of the trees of the North Alternian forest, and Meenah set her jaw and walked forward.

* * *

“Meenah, babe, this is… unexpected.” Cronus had made the mistake of opening the door for them. Meenah wasn’t in the mood. She pushed through and approached him – he had the same damn slicked-back haircut and cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth that he always did. In that moment, she hated him as much as any of the rest. The man who’d brokered everything – who’d sold Aranea’s death for ten percent.

The air whistled as Meenah’s fist shot out and connected with Cronus’ jaw with a  _ crack _ that sounded like it’d done some damage. He cried out and stumbled back, the cigarette flung to the far corners of the room.

“Meenah! What the heck’s into you, girl?” Cronus rubbed his jaw. There didn’t appear to be any permanent damage. Pity.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, you bulge-munching shit!” She aimed a blow at his throat – he managed to block it, but he still stumbled back. “You sold us out to a bunch of murdering bastards. Was it worth it? Do their deaths weigh on you?”

“What?” Cronus continued to back up.

“Rufioh.” Meenah could see Damara wince at that one from the corner of her eye. “Aranea.” She felt her own face grow dark. “Kurloz and Meulin and whoever else you–”

“They’re here!” Cronus backed up to the wall, his voice rising in panic. “Kurloz and Meulin and Aradia – she’s one of your friends too, right?! Babe, they’re all here! Just be cool and please stop hitting me!”

She raised her fist and glared. “You fucking liar!”

“He’s not.” A voice from the corner of the room. Meenah looked up to see a woman standing there – someone she’d never seen before. She was short but thickly-muscled with a posture that suggested extreme confidence. Long, black hair and a pair of horns that curled back around themselves. “You’ll never get what you want by beating him, you know.”

“I don’t fucking care! It makes me _feel_ better!” Meenah lashed out and struck Cronus once more in the face – he stumbled back against the wall with a stifled grunt. “I assume you’re this Aradia bitch?!”

“I am, in fact, this Aradia bitch.” She smiled at Meenah. “Your other friends are here too, by the way – Meulin and Kurloz.”

“I swear I will fucking kill you,” Meenah growled. “I don’t care who you are or what you’re about, but I’m ready to tear through each and every one of you fuckers.”

Aradia shrugged.

From behind her – “I don’t feel good.” Damara’s voice. Meenah turned.

Damara collapsed on the floor.

Something inside of Meenah clicked into place – something she’d been trying to avoid for a long time. Avoiding because she didn’t like it. Because she wanted to run from the responsibilities that’d been forced on her… and by extension all responsibility was exactly the same. But that wasn’t true anymore – hadn’t been true for sweeps.

Aranea was dead.

She was leading these people now.

* * *

“She’s showing the advanced signs – to be honest I’m amazed she’s lasted this long without medical attention.” Aradia frowned as she bent over Damara. Damara was lying on the floor and gasping, her face growing pale. “You are considerably tougher than I thought.”

Damara looked like she was trying to smile, but it was more of a pained grimace than anything.

“What’s up with this chick?” Cronus was standing nearby, still nursing his injured jaw.

Should’ve knocked his fucking teeth out.

“She’s experiencing a form of advanced organ shutdown,” Aradia said quietly. “Due to unstable bio-modifications from her days as a commando.”

“Oh, she’s one a them gals, gotcha! She didn’t have herself fixed up like you, doll?”

Aradia narrowed her eyes – _she_ looked like she wanted to punch Cronus. “She hasn’t had the bio-mods stabilized. They can’t be removed, but they can be made to stop killing the host. Sometimes at the expense of decreased functionality, but I think the tradeoff is worth it.”

Oh shit I care if she dies.

Meenah had tried to distance herself from the rest of them after the Fleet depot job. She’d tried to stay detached and aloof. She’d tried to tell herself this was all about money or status or something…

But she had money, and she didn’t care about status. She was doing this because she cared about them. Aranea – she’d actually loved Aranea. For the first time she felt like there was a piece of her heart that wasn’t going to heal easily. She was beginning to realize that, deep down inside, she cared about all of them – she would never admit it, but it was true.

“What can you do?” Meenah asked, kneeling down beside Damara. “How do we fix this?”

“She needs advanced medical care – the Authority has the resources – access to some of the more advanced Fleet medical facilities.” Aradia shook her head. “Barring that, there’s not much. A small dose of sythedrine every so often would help keep her alive for a while, but she’ll need more permanent medical care within a couple days or her body will begin to fight against itself. At that point the sythedrine will actually make things worse.”

It was a terrible trade-off, but it was all she had.

“Crony, you got sythedrine here?” she shouted to Cronus. He thought for a moment.

“Yeah, babe, I got it. Use it to bring down folks that’re flying too high on the new high test stuff, y’know?”

She didn’t give a fuck why he had it. “Shut up and bring it out, this is important.”

* * *

Damara was propped up against the wall now with Latula seated next to her – holding her hand. Aradia was kneeling, holding the empty sythedrine syringe and frowning.

“It’s important that we move quickly now,” she said. “If you want your friend to survive for much longer – our interests have just aligned.”

Meenah glared. “Unless your interest is burning Scratch to the fucking ground, I don’t give a half a shit, bitch. I will wipe him from every computer until he’s deleted from the whole goddamn telNet!”

“That’s right, you don’t know yet.” Aradia stood up, her face impossible to read. “We need to have a talk with Cronus now. About something important.”

Wordlessly, Meenah followed Aradia across the main room, through a hallway, and into a small office tucked in the back. Cronus was seated at a table rubbing his face.

“What is it now, babe?” He asked when he saw Meenah. “I ain’t got nothin else for ya!”

“You need to stop playing the fool,” Aradia said plainly – she was looking straight at Cronus. He had another cigarette hanging unlit in the corner of his frowning mouth.

“Doll, I don’t know what you–”

“Stop,” Aradia said. “Over-Commander Ampora, assigned to the Third Fleet in a support and logistics role… officially.”

Meenah knew this – she knew that Crony had been basically a glorified supply clerk. In charge of procurement and moving things from one side of the galaxy to another. It was how he’d gotten so good at brokering less-than-legal deals.

But Cronus looked nervous. Why was he feeling nervous right now?

Aradia shook her head. “Your assignment was placed on hold – as far as anyone who looks your records up knows, you were riding a desk at Third Fleet for most of your career. But that’s not true, now _is_ it? They did such a good job of burying it that not even the Authority knew, right?”

Cronus shifted and backed up a step – Aradia walked toward him.

“But I’ve made it my business to collect every piece of information I could on your former command – from both sides of things.”

“Look, babe, I was just running support back then! Honest! I never did nothin’ that could hurt anyone!” Cronus looked on the verge of panic. What was he talking about?

“Stop,” Aradia said again. “It took me sweeps to put everything together – you’re not the only one, but you’re the one I could find. I’d dramatically reveal your unit assignment but they don’t really have one, right? Over-Commander Ampora, assigned to the unnamed secrets projects division known only as _Spire._ ”

Spire.

The vague recollection of rumors she’d heard – things said in passing by connected people back when she was still plugged into Alternian high society. Nothing definite, because their world was so far divorced from the realities of what kept the Alternian war machine grinding along. But just enough to know that Cronus had reasons he didn’t want anyone to know this.

“Shit!” Cronus hissed as he took another step back. “You can’t prove it! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Tell them what I already know,” Aradia said softly – dangerously. “Tell them about Scratch… how he was never an artificial intelligence. Tell them about the Deep Felt experiments on the Green Moon… the project that got boxed up and no one knows exactly why. Or maybe…” She peered closely at Cronus. “Maybe someone knows why. Maybe someone grabbed what he could before the whole thing came down around his ears.”

Scratch isn’t an AI?!

She was struggling to process everything all at once. Cronus was shaking like a whipped barkbeast, doing his best to back himself all the way into the corner.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Do you know how many people will kill me if I talk about it?”

“Oh, I know.” Aradia smiled. “But if you don’t talk about it, I’m going to kill you right here and now.”

She meant it.

“Fine!” Cronus removed the cigarette from the corner of his mouth. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what happened right before Spire shut down the Green Moon, and I want to know where you hid the last thing you stole – I want to know where the Ghost Ship is.”

Cronus shook his head. “I don’t _know_ what happened. I wasn’t on the project, just managing supplies and stuff. Cats got to talkin’ and stuff – talked about them having some dude way out on the edge of everything in a ship. But he could talk right back here like he was in the next room. Then there was a big fuss with the project team and suddenly we were ordered to pack everything in, shut things down, and leave right away. Last day was a mess – everyone running around and trying to get passage off the base. Maybe I requisitioned a ship and never happened to return it.”

“What kind of ship are we talking about?” Meenah asked.

Aradia glanced over. “The kind that Scratch can’t track.” That perked Meenah’s ears up as soon as she heard it. “We need it. It’s the only Felt-blind ship that exists anymore, as far as I know.”

“But why? It’s only useful for short-range – the same tech that keeps it from appearing in the Felt basically nukes the nav systems.” Cronus stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and lit it – he drew in sharply and blew a cloud of smoke to the side. “What’s your plan? Escape the planet on a ship that can’t even move out of the system?”

“No,” Aradia said – she leaned in closer to Cronus. “We’re going up to the Green Moon to see what they left behind when they closed in such a hurry.”

“Doll, you’re fucking crazy if you think that’s a good idea.” Another pull from the cigarette – Cronus exhaled with a laugh. “They were scared of something. Scratch, I guess – what he could do.”

Aradia nodded. “We already know what he can do, Mr. Ampora – what we need is to find a way to stop him. And to do that, we need to go back to the place where he was, as it were, first hatched.”


	47. The Waiting Game

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Cronus’ Workshop, North Alternian**

“I’d kill for a drink right now… it’d probably kill _me_ but I still want one.” Damara leaned heavily against Latula’s shoulder and groaned – Latula put her arms around the rust blood’s waist and pulled her in closer, feeling her flinch a little. “Still hurts like hell, even with the synth…”

They were up against the wall in Cronus’ workshop – alone now. The others had gone off to meet up with Meulin and Kurloz somewhere. The discussion had seemed important, but it was hard for Latula to focus on it.

Latula was terrified. She had already known that Damara was on borrowed time, but it had been so easy to just ignore that fact. When Damara seemed healthy, anyway. Her collapsing in the middle of the floor had made ignoring that a lot harder. So _fear_ was the operative word for the day. Pure, gut-wrenching terror that she was about to lose someone that she…

Loves.

That was all out in the open. A messy path, but they’d all gotten there eventually. The same could be said about all of their lives up to this point. It had been easier back in the Legiscorpus. You were given your assignments and you did them. You didn’t question things because it wasn’t your job – it was the job of those higher up to worry about that. And if you followed those orders well enough then you became a Legislacerator and then you were in charge, eventually, and whose orders did you follow then?

Someone like Terezi? The woman who barely contained the glee she felt when she was going into action – who appeared to find a certain thrill in hurting others. The ultimate embodiment of what the Legiscorpus actually stood for.

“Did you know that Aradia lady?” Latula asked.

Damara laughed. “You think all us rusties know each other?”

“You know that’s not what I mean!”

Another laugh. “I’m shitting you – I don’t think she served at the same time as me. I don’t recognize her from training or deployment, and there’s not _that_ many of us out there.”

It occurred to Latula that Damara never talked about her time in the Alternian Army – not about her time in the regular Army or her time in the Commandos. There were things that she’d learned from context, or from observing Damara over the last sweep, but she didn’t talk about it.

Latula sighed and leaned back. “We hurt people.” She could feel the warmth moving out of the room as she said it, even if only in her mind. “We hurt a lot of people.”

A moment of space in the air – a void in the conversation.

Damara was crying.

“I deserve this,” she said softly. “After everything. I keep trying to run from it – drinking, sex, whatever… just… I want to feel something that isn’t hating myself… just for a little while.”

Latula reached out and took Damara’s hand, circling her fingers around the rust blood’s thumb and pressing softly.

“That’s why I want this to work,” Damara closed her eyes and sunk down against Latula’s shoulder. “This is one thing that doesn’t feel polluted by the bad shit I’ve done in the past. And I don’t mean fucking raiding some Authority vault or whatever… I mean…”

Latula knew what she meant. She knew enough about the Alternian Army – enough about the Colony Wars and the way that everyone even remotely off the grid was suddenly labeled a rebel or a terrorist.

“It’s weird – it’s like you know in some part of your brain that what you’re doing is wrong, but you… you do it anyway,” Damara said.

Maybe not exactly the same, but Latula felt the same way. Busting up homeless camps that were more like miniature cities – villages of the dispossessed who couldn’t afford to live on their stipends. Disappearing folks who made too much noise – always telling themselves that they were just being picked up to await a fair trial in the halls of Their Honorable Tyranny. A right protected by the sacred laws that Her Imperious Condescension personally enforced.

What a crock of shit.

Those laws – those rights – meant nothing. She’d been sending people to their deaths as surely as Damara had been. At least in Damara’s case it’d been obvious up-front what it was about.

“Why? Why did we do it?” Latula wondered out loud.

“We weren’t raised to have a choice. Run the grub grinder or jump in yourself – pick one.” Damara pressed herself closer.

“I could’ve gone into the administrative sector…” Latula trailed off. She wasn’t sure if that was better or not – to help keep the system in place in a fundamental way.

“How old were you when you started your training?”

Latula shrugged. “First started? I was… seven sweeps.”

“I joined the Army when I was eight. I was barely out of wriggling and suddenly they’re teaching me how to kill people. Handing me a gun and grenades and telling me _hey just laze that target over there and we’ll drop a fucking nuke on it._ ”

And Latula hadn’t thought of it like that. So much had happened – she was so focused on understanding the _now_ that understanding where she’d come from was a luxury that she didn’t bother to indulge in.

“By the time I was in the Commandos, I was all the way gone,” Damara continued. “I’d gotten so used to seeing it all as normal. And then before I knew it, I was career – I was so deep in that I couldn’t live any other way.”

“Why’d you leave?” Latula had never asked before.

“Because I cycled out. Six and a half sweeps in service – and I burnt out. Happens to a lot of Commandos, apparently. They told me I could either go back to regular deployment cycles or take my stipend and go.”

She stopped talking – waited – took a deep breath.

“I left because I couldn’t sleep anymore. Because I kept seeing the things I’d done. Because even with all the shit they did to condition me, I was still a person.”

It was strange to listen to Damara talk like this. She was four sweeps older than Latula – had a lot more experience at living… but the way she responded emotionally sometimes it was like she was barely out of being a wiggler. Like she’d been packed away at eight sweeps and replaced with someone who was trained to kill her own people when they were deemed too inconvenient.

Damara fell silent again and Latula didn’t speak to fill the gap – she held Damara close and listened to her breathing. It was sounding harsher now, like breathing itself was painful.

“I don’t think you deserve this,” Latula whispered. “I think you deserve a chance to live as yourself for once.”

She didn’t respond, but Latula felt Damara shaking softly and huddling close to her. She was crying again.

“Bullshit! What’s going to happen? I’m going to fucking bring everyone back to life?” Damara whimpered.

Latula leaned over and kissed the top of her head, between her horns. “Maybe all of this is a chance to make things right. Maybe Aradia actually has a plan.”

“Babe… I’ve got maybe two day cycles before I check out for good. What good can I do in that time, like this?” Damara groaned.

“Don’t say that! We’ll find some way to stop things! To stabilize you!” Latula felt the panic starting to rise up inside. “Stop talking like you’re about to die!”

“No,” Damara muttered. “You need to accept how things are. If it’s gotten this bad, there’s no way I’m just going to come back from this. With what? Some kind of magic fucking potion?”

Tears sprang to her eyes – tears she’d been trying so desperately to keep back. All the emotions she’d been holding onto flooded out all at once and Latula was sobbing and holding onto Damara.

“No! This isn’t fucking fair! You’re supposed to be okay! I love you!” She shut her eyes tight and wished that none of this had ever happened – as if the wishing would somehow turn back the hands of time. And if it did, what then? Repeat the same cycles again and again?

Damara leaned back against Latula’s arms. “I love you too. I’m glad we talked about this stuff… I’m glad we talked to Mituna. I’d hate to go out with everything unresolved.”

“Stop it!” Her eyes were burning and clouded now – filled with tears that wouldn’t stop. “Please stop!”

Latula felt Damara sigh against her and wrap her arms around her waist. There was a soft kiss on her cheek – that didn’t make the crying any better. Why did she have to be dying? Why did the Empire treat them all like disposable pieces of some giant game? Why did any of this have to be the way it was?

Sadness gave way to anger – Latula felt it burning up from deep down inside. This wasn’t _fair!_ It wasn’t fair that they could take the most vulnerable people and turn them into weapons. It wasn’t fair that they lied to everyone – controlled them by giving them just enough to barely survive but always, _always_ leaving them wanting that little bit more.

She was caught between that grand view of things and the deeply personal hurt she felt that the woman she loved – her matesprit – that Damara was dying because of something done to her long ago by people who cared more for expanding the Empire’s influence than they ever would for any of its citizens.

“I don’t want to think about this,” she muttered – mostly to herself. She felt a squeeze around her waist.

“Then don’t… at least not for right now.” She opened her eyes and saw Damara looking at her. The rust blood’s eyes were watery – she hadn’t stopped crying either. “We’ve got a few minutes – we don’t have to do anything but be here.”

Latula leaned forward to meet Damara and they kissed – the first time in what felt like an eternity. In that kiss, the anger bled away – the desperation – the pain and hurt and anguish. It was all still there, in the background.

But for at least that brief moment, she didn’t need to think about it.


	48. Wings of Dark and Steel

**Sweeps in the Past...** **  
** **Imperial Dropship Pinnacle, Orbit Over Colony World 5672A**

Meulin sat on the hard metal deck of the flight bay – next to her, Weskin, the gold blood Felt tech for her fireteam, was sitting cross-legged with a technical manual open in front of him. 

“What is it?” she asked, craning her neck. “What is it you’re reading?”

Weskin picked up the book to show her the front cover – _Interstellar Navigation Using the Deep Felt_ – Meulin nodded. 

Weskin set the book back down. “It’s really interesting stuff, Sarge. You want to hear?” 

Meulin shrugged. “Sure, why not? Not like we’re doing anything else right now.” Drop was still a day-cycle away and her whole squad was already prepped and ready. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago – when they hit the ground, they were going to be running full speed. 

“Okay, so –” Weskin was talking with his hands as much as his mouth, excitedly gesturing at nothing as he spoke – “Up until pretty recently, interstellar travel has always required a helmsman of some kind to navigate. A troll – usually a gold blood – with a strong mental connection to… well, we didn’t know exactly what it was. Some kind of cosmic force that could be tapped into under the right circumstances. It was used for hundreds of sweeps, but it was never well understood.” 

He tapped the tip of his nose excitedly. “And this is where it gets really good!” He grinned. “You see, when Fleet scientists started researching the Felt a few dozen sweeps ago, they accidentally stumbled onto something amazing!”

He paused, as if waiting for Meulin to respond. She raised an eyebrow and he grinned. 

“It turned out that under the right circumstances, the same technology that was being used to access the Felt networks could be tuned to tap into that cosmic force that we had already been using to navigate! Except it was better – because we can use the Felt wetware as an intermediary, a lot more people can access the same information. It’s also a lot less… harsh on the end users. So no more burning out gold bloods’ thinkpans just to sail between the stars!” 

He was right – it was interesting. Meulin didn’t understand a lot of what he was saying, but she’d learned enough in her own Felt training to appreciate it. She supposed that she’d always taken the use of the Deep Felt navigation for granted – it had been well established by the time she was hatched, after all. 

“Funny story,” Weskin said. “The nav techs like to tell stories about ghost ships out there in the void – ships still being piloted by helmsmen that can’t find their way back. Lost for hundreds of sweeps out there in the black.” He shivered. 

Meulin smiled at him. “Thanks for the stories, Specialist. Time to get some rack time – we’ve got a big day tomorrow.” 

She had been right about that. A big day.

The last of many. 

* * *

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Cronus’ Workshop, North Alternia**

She didn’t hear the argument in the other room, but Kurloz had – he filled her in on the details which basically boiled down to _Cronus is hiding something important._ A few minutes later, Aradia had appeared to tell them to come with her. Cronus led Aradia, Meenah, Kurloz and Meulin to the back of the workshop, then through a very well-hidden door and down a series of half-rusted old metal stairs.

Meulin couldn’t figure out how Cronus had hidden this for so long. His workshop sat at the top of a hill – a hill that had been cut away on the side to reveal a long hangar shrouded at one end by a small stand of trees. It reminded Meulin of the places she’d served during her time attached to various Fleet ships – a function corridor of metal designed for the singular purpose of launching small spacecraft.

There was only one ship in the hangar, and it was a design Meulin had never seen before. The basic pattern was unassuming enough – a simple shuttle built in the austere, functional style common to the Alternian Fleet. The specifics, however, eluded her – this was no shuttle ever put into production that she was aware of.

Meenah and Cronus were talking, and from the looks of their faces they were both angry. Aradia walked in front of Meulin and nodded.

Cronus doesn’t want us to take the ship. She smiled. Not that he’s got any real choice here.

Meulin put an arm behind Kurloz’s back – he was staring at the ship. What’s different about it, sister?

I dunno – looks like a regular Fleet shuttle to me.

It’s got a bit of a secret. Aradia smiled at them. Right before Spire packed up and left the Green Moon, they were working on technology to conceal a ship from the Felt entirely. It would severely limit navigational abilities, of course, but it would have the advantage of not being detectable by any Fleet sensors that rely on Felt connectivity.

What about regular sensors? Visual? Radar? Can’t they just report back on the network?

Aradia’s smile turned dark – there was a reason that this technology had never been perfected.

The ship is completely invisible. At least as far as the Felt is concerned.

What does that mean? Meulin cocked her head to the side. How is that possible?

To say that the Felt is not well understood would be a grotesque understatement. Fleet scientists stumbled on a method by which they could make an object – of certain properties and with the proper preparations – unknowable. At least as far as the Felt is concerned. Any attempts to communicate the object’s existence, properties, or behavior through the Felt will be… unsuccessful.

That sounds very useful – why not make every ship in the damn Fleet like this?

For one thing, it makes navigation and communication difficult. Being restricted to short-range communication and basic navigation essentially makes this useful only for short-range craft. The other issue is that while the ship itself cannot be observed in any way through the Felt, it is possible for someone who knows what they’re looking for to plot the blank spot it creates and use that to triangulate the ship’s location.

Meulin frowned and stepped forward, toward the unassuming shuttle. So basically it only works if no one’s expecting it to be there?

Exactly! Not very practical for most Fleet operations.

Sister, I’ve got a bad motherfucking feeling about this. Something about it… Kurloz shook his head. Motherfucker feels evil.

You feel it too? Aradia nodded, her eyebrows raised in surprise. I thought maybe I was the only one. I said before that the Felt is not well understood – to be perfectly clear, they have no clue what the hell they’re doing. The Deep Felt is a vast gulf filled with monsters.

The ultra-black. Kurloz stared forward at the ship. Tuna talked about it… like staring into a deep well and a million eyes start staring back. He shook his head, as if to clear it.

Poetic. I suspected that there was something beyond the veil of the Deep Felt for a long time – I had some experiences during my first deployment with the Commandos. When I joined the Authority, I wanted to confirm my suspicions.

Meulin turned to look at Aradia.

* * *

The space between the bombs… 

In between her beating heart… 

In the moment when her mind made contact with the Felt… 

The overwhelming sense of presence…

That she was no longer _alone…_

* * *

You were in the Felt, weren’t you? In combat… I’d bet my life on it. Meulin stared at Aradia, looking for any sign of recognition.

Her face was grim – the smile she so often wore was nowhere to be seen. You’ve been there too, haven’t you?

My last deployment – our Felt tech was killed and I put on the wetware to call in air support…

* * *

Every line of burning green… 

The black space that filled in… 

Inside of that space within space, she could sense it… 

She was no longer seeing… 

Now she was being _seen…_

* * *

I had one day of Felt training. Introductory – just to let us know how the wetware worked in an emergency. Aradia grimaced. We were on a far border world doing something we shouldn’t have been – hunting a group of political dissidents like ratbeasts.

Her whole body language had changed. This was something she’d prefer to forget about – something she never wanted to talk about or experience again. But she was going to talk about it – she _needed_ to talk about it.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault – the planet was unstable and the ground just opened up. Swallowed the targets and half my squad. I was at the bottom of a ravine and could barely move. But I could reach the fireteam’s Felt wetware.

She fidgeted with her hands.

I put the headset on – with the interfaces they gave us, it hurt. A lot.

* * *

Between breaths filled with blood-smell and burning flesh… 

In between the deep-red haze of the world outside… 

Lying in the mire of gore and waiting to die… 

Even cleaved away from the pitch-black world… 

She could feel it watching… seeing… _waiting for her…_

* * *

Aradia leaned forward. If you’re telling the truth, you know what I… what I experienced. The sudden and absolute certainty that I was being watched by something outside reality itself. It’s impossible to describe exactly how it feels but… She shrugged – the gesture seemed so utterly banal.

I know.

You want to know why I was willing to sacrifice what I did to get to Scratch? Do you want to know what keeps me going? What fear wakes me up in the middle of the night?

Her eyes were deep – Meulin hadn’t noticed before just how dark the circles ringed around them were. Aradia didn’t sleep much.

There’s something out there, the more we push out – the more we violate the boundaries of our world – it becomes more and more aware of us. The ones the Fleet sends to the Deep Felt are given the tools to resist that influence for a time. They don’t perceive it fully – they’re left with that nagging sense of unease. Headaches that won’t stop. It is physically draining to peer beyond the veil.

Whoever Scratch is exactly, he lives in that threshold. If we don’t stop him, he’ll gladly rip it wide open.

And what then? What does that even MEAN? Meulin could feel herself trembling.

I don’t know exactly, but I think you know why I’m worried about it.

She was right.

Something was out there. 

Beyond the edges of awareness, where the phosphor brights ceased to glow. 

Watching. 

Seeing. 

Waiting. 


	49. Signals

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

Mituna felt the cold press of the service pistol on the back of his neck – heard the muttered voice from behind him as Vriska spoke through gritted teeth. “What are they planning?” He already knew the rest – the hammer was back and the gun was a hair’s breadth from emptying his brain out of his thinkpan.

“Wait a minute now, what’s all this?” Horuss fussed from the side. Vriska ignored him.

“I don’t know!” It was the truth. No one had told him what the plan was, because he didn’t think there _was_ a plan when they’d left. Getting to Cronus and not being noticed by Scratch seemed to be the extent of it. Beyond that…

“Aradia is the one with the plan, I guess,” Mituna said – he really hoped those wouldn’t be his last words. Better to go out saying something cool than something that sounded so noncommittal.

“I know,” Vriska snarled. “That’s the problem. I already told you we have a history together.”

From the corner of his eye, Mituna noticed someone moving. That was bad, because it meant that Vriska would too.

She did – Vriska turned quickly to see Porrim trying to move up behind her. With a single motion, Vriska brought the gun into the side of Porrim’s head and stepped forward, tripping the taller troll and sending her to the ground in a sprawl. Vriska stood over her, pointing the gun at her head.

“So we’re going two-for-two on killing women that Meenah’s fucked, huh?” She leered at Porrim. “Hope it was worth it.”

“God damn it, stop!” Mituna shouted. “What do you want from us?!”

“You fuckers don’t get it, do you?” She took a step away from Porrim, toward the side of the room. The gun was still up. “You’re useful because you’re useful to me. Because I don’t trust many people in the Empire while Scratch has his fingers into everything. And I sure as hell don’t trust you fuck-ups, but at least you’re not bought and paid for. At least not by Scratch, anyway. He burned you all too much.”

It sounds like she’s really talking about herself…

“Look, I’m gonna turn around and check the terminal, okay?” Mituna said slowly. “I’m just checking to see what’s going on with the satellites.”

He turned, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t result in him being shot. The console was lighting up – the satellites that he’d re-tasked were mostly gone now. That was fine – it had distracted Scratch and he was basically poking his own eyes out now. Too bad he had thousands of them left. Down in the corner of the screen, Mituna noticed a small blinking indicator.

“Uh… we’ve got an incoming rotary.” Which didn’t make any sense – the others wouldn’t be back this quickly, and they would’ve radioed. “It’s been cleared all the way through.”

“Stop trying to fucking distract me!” Vriska yelled, waving her pistol around. “You think I’m fucking stupid?! I know you’ve been working to undermine us – that’s pretty fucking obvious! That bitch Damara… and Meenah… mad because I wasted her stupid fucking bitch of a matesprit or whatever.”

Porrim sat up on the floor, rubbing the side of her head where the pistol had impacted. “What do you want from us? We’ve been helping you however we can. None of us want… whatever Scratch is doing any more than you do. So why treat us like this?”

Vriska stormed over and pointed the gun directly at Porrim. She didn’t even flinch. “If you feel you must,” she said quietly. “Scratch already ripped half of my heart away – you might as well finish the job, I suppose.”

“That _is_ a tempting offer.” Vriska raised the gun and leaned forward, but Porrim didn’t move. She was staring straight at Vriska. For a few tense seconds they stayed like that, and Mituna was sure he was about to witness Vriska simply murder Porrim in cold blood. Finally, she holstered the pistol and laughed. “Fuck it. You remind me of someone…”

Her face turned down and she looked away – Mituna could’ve sworn he saw tears in the corners of her eyes.

* * *

There wasn’t even a knock – the door to the workshop was simply thrown open. Vriska instinctively turned and drew her pistol.

Terezi was standing in the doorway, looking like she’d just crawled out of hell. Her eyes were wide and she looked at each of them with the same wild energy – the infrared eyes whirring almost imperceptibly as she focused.

“What is fucking going on?!” She stepped into the room, slamming the door behind her. “I’m crashing at my place when suddenly I get a priority call because the North Alternian Capitol is now a smoking crater two blocks wide and someone wiped First Fleet R&D off the fucking map! And then I see that I’ve got a message on my telNet and that’s… I got _this._ ” She held up a diskette.

Terezi walked straight up to the telNet terminal, shoving Mituna aside. She turned to glare at him. “If you don’t get the fuck out of my way I will cut off your fucking arm.” She wasn’t exaggerating – Mituna backed up. As soon as he was clear of the terminal, Terezi inserted the data disk and pulled up the interface.

“I got an encrypted burst transmission from Kanaya right before R&D was destroyed. There’s some corruption but it’s mostly legible…” She punched in a series of keystrokes and the terminal lit up.

1.   
I Have Been Doing Research Into Something I Should Not Have   
There Were Sealed Project Files On The Server   
T8VFA)61,.MqjYe Not Supposed To Know About Them   
Fortunately I Have Sollux Here hx%jA[Hm2o~?$XB   
We Have Been Able To Make A Significant RX9#euXq@6q*CXp   
B?h^K.5sqCDj%Vm Results Into A Single Document For   
Transmission At The Earliest Possible Convenience   
  
2.   
There Is Something On The Green Moon   
I Was X=w(RcGG QCT+FnEven In My Capacity In The Authority   
8lo+h]+4adfJUgd Believe It Was A Failed Experiment   
The Records Are Incomplete But They Speak Of   
A Kind Of Living Computer Bv{Dpx<DT%&JMEP   
  
Vgm]ocC/BKo\jjY Monstrous   
We Were Wrong To Keep Protecting %JQ[.]:-=$~B&n3   
The Empire BC"WBhh+ol<u-JE From Us   
The Empress Has Secrets She Will Never Share   
"SYN7$IR|h=xi;X Not Willingly   
  
3.   
Scratch Is Tied To This Project - I Believe I Was Wrong   
He Is Not An Artificial Intelligence   
0{<GxBmN/6FiXZmHe Is - Or Once Was - An Alternian   
He Was Changed Somehow - The Records Are Unclear   
What Is Clear Is That He Was Sealed Away Or Exiled Somehow   
He Is Dangerous   
N.XBJmR)F;F~fR7 Than We Could Have Thought   
  
tp*>N)Y=BLIi,Nv References To Something Beyond The Far Reaches   
  
4.   
I Was Wrong About So Much   
I Thought I Understood The Felt So Well   
I Was Wrong~<1EE2,~ sU&Q=?   
U",9`e{(mv]W,2bHow It Was Developed   
Wrong About How It Works   
  
We Have Been Toying With Demons   
&KGN\N)xna(D#5V I Would Destroy It All   
\?7+dwc{i'Z8Zi\\\ap~.;]FeWY2-$f   
5.   
Our Proximity Alarm Has Sounded   
We Have Two Or Three Minutes n 1>MR<sUQ6:F.@.   
  
I Am Sending This To Terezi   
vET7GY( )y"'Xjn Get Out With Sollux   
  
If I Do Not Make It Out Alive   
oU'fIwQ90e'T]OU I Renounce My Position   
The Empire Is Built On Lies   
  
We Were All Lied To

Kanaya… Sollux…

Vriska finished reading the log and turned to Terezi – she grabbed the shorter troll by the collar, shaking her. “They got out! Where the fuck are they?”

Terezi brushed her hand aside sharply. “Get the hell off of me. I confirmed this with site security right before all our comms got shut down. No one got out of anything – this was sent a minute before the tower was hit, and everything inside a hundred yards is rubble now.”

Vriska backed away – she had that same shell-shocked look in her eyes that she did when she first realized what was happening to First Fleet. She’d managed to convince herself it wasn’t real, maybe… maybe tell herself that Kanaya had gotten out okay.

But that wasn’t what stood out to Mituna in what Terezi had said.

“Did you just say that comms went down?” He directed the question at Terezi.

“You didn’t know? What the fuck have you been doing in here?” She sneered. “Some satellites started re-tasking, then the orbital platforms started hitting them, then all of our comms went down – Felt and telNet radio are being jammed. Only thing that works is focused-beam and hardline.”

Mituna nodded. “We sent a bunch of folks to Cronus Ampora’s hideout to meet with Aradia.”

“Wait…” Terezi narrowed her eyes. “Aradia? The same Aradia that blew this one’s fucking arm off?” She gestured at Vriska. Mituna nodded again.

“Yeah. I don’t know what the deal is, but it’s basically the only lead we’ve got.”

“It doesn’t take a Legislacerator to figure this one out,” Terezi said. “I’d guess that this has some connection with the stuff Kanaya sent to me. Vriska was always convinced that she knew some kind of deep secrets about everything – said that was the reason she’d gone off the grid the way she did.”

She walked to the other side of the room and grabbed a chair. Sitting down with a heavy sigh, Terezi turned to Horuss. “How likely you think it is we get blasted by one of those orbital things?”

“As I explained to the others, I believe this facility is crucially important. It is one of the only heavy launch capable facilities on the planet.” Horuss seemed almost indignant.

“So what you’re saying,” Terezi sighed, “is that we’re sitting in a mission-critical facility that’s probably under-staffed and panicked with everything that’s happening. And none of you dumbasses thought that maybe it might be a target.”

Horuss spoke as if to a small wiggler. “As I _just_ explained, this facility is too important for him to target.”

It clicked in Mituna’s head a second before she said it.

Oh… no.

“You pompous ass – I don’t mean the orbital platforms.” She was already drawing her gun from the holster. “You have actual guns somewhere nearby, I hope?”

Before Horuss could answer, the low sound of a rotary aircraft roaring low over the terrain echoed from outside – it was coming in fast.

“Guns?” Terezi asked.

“They’re in the lockup next door,” Horuss said, visibly shaking.

“Well then,” Terezi smiled. “We’re taking a little field trip, Wiggler Scouts.”

Over the top of the rotary engines, another noise cut in – the sharp, rhythmic crack of a heavy aircraft cannon firing on the base.


	50. To Soar Unburdened

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Cronus’ Workshop, North Alternia**

“This thing better fucking work,” Meenah adjusted the crew suit and glared over the top of her glasses at Cronus. “He sees us and traces us back to you, you’ve got yourself a date with a nice kinetic rod.”

Cronus winced. “Babe, don’t wish me bad like that. This stuff is prime tech – just hang on and it’ll get you where you need to go.”

Even with the advanced shuttle, it would take several hours to reach the Green Moon. That was a lot of time for things to change back on Alternia. Meenah wasn’t thrilled with this plan, but it was the only one they had. The others were already loaded up. Even Damara, who had insisted that she was going to be okay despite being basically held together by synthedrine injections at this point. Cronus had provided some low-gravity recoilless carbines for them to use on the Green Moon, along with a liberal amount of explosives to use to destroy the facility.

“It’s your fault we’re even dragged into this to begin with, you piece of shit.” It wasn’t entirely true – Cronus might’ve handed them the old Fleet depot job but that had been basically it. Once they took the job, everything else had started. Scratch had sought their weak points and exploited them. Manipulated them.

They had been no more destined to this than anyone, but once they took that job their fate was set.

We raised our hands – we got called on. Fuck.

“Okay…” Meenah sighed, turning the suit’s helmet over in her hands. “You’re a piece of shit, Cronus… but thank you.”

“Babe, it ain’t nothin’ personal here – that crazy fucker’s bad for business!” He grinned.

“Yeah, fuck off, Crony.” Meenah rolled her eyes, put on the helmet, and walked to the waiting shuttle.

* * *

The others were strapped in already, waiting for Meenah. Ironically, of all of them she was the only one who had any experience in piloting a spaceship. She’d learned when she was younger – wanted to be able to burn out into the lower atmosphere and get away from the rush of it all. So she bought herself a little shuttle and the lessons to fly it. Turned out she was pretty good at it. Not a skill-set she’d had much chance to use lately.

Useful enough now.

She strapped herself into the pilot’s seat and began to run through the pre-flight checks. Aradia had just enough baseline familiarity with the shuttle systems from her time in the Authority to serve as a co-pilot. The rest of them were strapped in the back, waiting.

“Okay, bitch, let’s fucking do this thing.” Meenah flipped down a bank of switches, readying the ship’s life support systems and bringing the reactor to full power. The shuttle was basically what she was used to, but the navigation would be a challenge. Lacking any kind of connection to the Felt and strangely cut off from most forms of communication, navigation could be provided by a line-of-sight tight beam or by the on-board computer using pre-programmed values. She and Cronus had already sat down and loaded the navigational data in. The rest would be manual.

“Systems are green,” Aradia said, her voice even. Of course she was used to being launched out into space – she’d probably done it plenty as a commando.

“Hey, rust, let me ask you something?” Meenah turned to see Aradia – her face was barely visible through the visor of her helmet. “Did you really blow that bitch’s arm off?”

A pause. “Technically it was a rigged dummy terminal.” Another pause. “But yes, essentially.”

“Good. She killed the woman I love, and one day I’m gonna fuckin’ bury her ass.” Meenah reached forward to engage mag-plating. When the shuttle hovered inches from the ground, she jammed the throttle forward.

With a sudden jolt, the shuttle reared up and rocketed toward the end of the tunnel. Meenah was pressed back into her acceleration seat and she grit her teeth and smiled. She’d missed this more than she cared to admit – the feeling of almost losing control and somehow reining it back in at the last possible moment.

Free of the tunnel and skimming over the trees, Meenah pulled the shuttle into a steep climb. The main thrusters blasted out behind them, pushing the ship forward. It would be mere minutes until they were free of the atmosphere – then they would follow the nav path in. Hopefully.

A lot could go wrong – the ship’s sweeps-old technology failing in some way being very near the top of the list. If the Felt-blind technology went, then she expected that they would soon be on the receiving end of one of Alternia’s many orbital defense systems.

The sky in front of the ship’s viewport grew darker as they climbed. Soon, the stars came out and the last of the blue haze vanished. They were in orbit. Meenah adjusted the thrust settings, checking the telemetry data on the on-board terminal. Without Felt connection, all the navigational data was being fed through the internal sensors with a fair amount of delay.

“I have been in space many times,” Aradia said quietly, her voice coming in clearly through the on-ship intercom. “But there is always something melancholy about leaving Alternia behind. For all of its many problems, it will always remain my home.”

“Fuck Alternia,” Meenah replied. “I was gonna be on the first ship to Landfall once everything was done. Aranea was gonna come with me.” Of course, Aranea hadn’t agreed to it… but the others didn’t know that. In her mind’s eye of the past, she had convinced Aranea that it would be the best thing to do and they’d left all of this behind. In that version of the past, Aranea had lived and not been unceremoniously splattered on a utilitarian floor.

“That sounds like an elegant solution. I’m sorry you weren’t able to put it into action.” Aradia’s voice was soft – she sounded like she meant it. “I hope that you can still find some measure of happiness when this is all over.”

Me too.

Another course correction and there it was – the Green Moon loomed just over the curve of Alternia, hanging accursed in the night-black sky. There was something ominous about its very presence.

“How do we know where to go?” Meenah asked. It was still too far away to possibly make anything out, but she wanted to go in prepared.

“There should be a central hangar – with the defensive systems off, we can land there and then enter using manual overrides.”

With the ship pointed in the right direction, Meenah pushed the throttle up and let it accelerate. She would coast for a while, then engage the retro-thrusters to decelerate gradually enough that it would make everyone in the ship puke. Ahead of her, the Green Moon dominated the viewport. It was all she could see – all she could think about. Here was where the rainbow-spattered path finally ended.

* * *

**The Green Moon**

Hours passed in silence, and the Green Moon grew ever-larger in her view. Soon they were close enough that Meenah could make out to individual craters and hills of the rocky terrain. And between all of it, there was a scattered complex of buildings – low, gray buildings that squatted oppressively in the green-tinted canyons of the moon.

“It’s mostly underground,” Aradia said.

Meenah took over the controls manually, gradually guiding the shuttle into a low orbit over the moon’s surface. She scanned the viewport for signs of the hangar – it wasn’t hard to find. Like a fungal growth, the hangar jutted out from next to the rim of a crater.

The landing beacons were lit.

“I thought this place was abandoned,” Meenah said – this was making her nervous.

“It is – after everything that happened with Scratch it was shut down in a hurry. The beacons must be on automatic timers… or maybe just got left on for all this time.”

It sounded plausible enough – but Meenah couldn’t help but worry. The whole place had a deep and abiding sense of _wrongness_ to it. It was like there was something lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to rise up and grab them. She shook the feeling off and circled in toward the hangar, deploying the shuttle’s landing pads.

The hangar bay was wide open, looming like the maw of some great beast in front of them. Meenah slowed the ship to a gentle float, taking it in under the barest thruster power required not to crash. The closer she got, the more the image of being swallowed whole grew in her mind. This wasn’t a mere base – it was a ravenous thing that lived beneath the surface of the Green Moon. It had been abandoned because it was awake and alive and aware.

They were going straight in.

* * *

Minutes passed – a half-hour – Meenah landed the shuttle and made sure everything was properly sealed away for their return. She and the rest packed their gear and set out into the massive hangar. Aradia led the way, despite her having never actually been to this place. She still projected an air of confidence around her.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where to go. The main airlock sat at the far end of the hangar.

Its indicator lights were all on.

“Another hold-over from a hasty retreat?” Meenah muttered through her intercom. “Or should we be worried about this?”

“I don’t know,” Aradia answered. At least she was being honest.

They continued to the end of the hangar, their recoilless carbines at the ready. They hadn’t seen any sign of another living being in this place, but that didn’t stop them from being on edge. They had plenty of reason to feel that way, given everything that’d happened.

The airlock itself had both an automatic and manual release on it. But the automatic release was still lit up. On a whim, Meenah reached out and pressed the button.

With a hiss of air, the airlock slid open. On the far side was a thick door with a double-paned window set into it. They all filed into the airlock and Meenah pressed the button to cycle. After five minutes of hissing and clicking, a recorded voice played.

“You are now free to disengage environmental protective gear.”

Meenah popped off her helmet and… the air was clean and fresh. The re-circulators had stayed operational for sweeps – no doubt aided by the light load placed on the system by tending only to an unoccupied series of rooms and corridors. Now they just had to wait for the second door to cycle open and they could begin to unlock the mysteries of the…

There was a face looking at them from the other side of the plastic panes. Meenah started forward – it was a troll’s face. They had a square jaw and short, stubby horns.

The intercom set into the wall of the airlock crackled to life.

“Greetings, guests.”

They all looked at each other. Meulin and Kurloz moved their hands in a way that Meenah couldn’t understand. The others all looked at each other.

“What the hell is this?” Damara growled at the window. “Who the fuck are you?”

Meenah could barely perceive it, but there was a change in the air. A faint hissing noise – a slight shift in the pressure. She sniffed the air but couldn’t smell anything unusual. But still...

The troll behind the window smiled. “My name was Kankri Vantas – the first of the many.”

Her vision was getting fuzzy around the edges. The others too – they were already stumbling and falling to their knees. Meenah tried to move forward only to find that her legs had suddenly decided they no longer wanted to cooperate with the rest of her.

Kankri’s smile broadened. “On behalf of our most excellent host, I bid you welcome.”

Meenah felt the world give way as she fell forward. She was unconscious before she even hit the ground.


	51. Forward Observer

**11th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

“Asshole with the goggles, what’s your name?” Terezi was checking the chamber on her pistol while she said it.

Horuss blinked, stunned, as the chorus of gunfire outside rose. “I am Over-Commander Horuss Zahak of the–”

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore. I’ve already lost two friends today and I’m not interested in losing more. You good, Vris?”

Vriska had her own pistol out again – her jaw was set. “I’m going to fucking kill them all.”

That seemed unlikely, but at least she was optimistic about this. Mituna glanced over at Porrim and Horuss. The last time he’d fired a gun was during his days in the Fleet, and it was only for basic range qualification every perigee. He had no idea about the others.

“Personally, I abhor violence as a general concept,” Porrim said, her voice trembling. “But perhaps we should make an attempt to reach the weapons rather than stay defenseless.”

Horuss was in the corner of the room, still staring forward. “I… am… Over-Commander Horuss…” he trailed off as his words blended with gunfire and… screaming? Definitely screaming coming from outside.

“Okay, fine. We’re going next door to the lockup and we’re grabbing something we can use to defend ourselves.”

Terezi walked to the door and swung it open, pistol at the ready.

The scene outside was unmitigated chaos. Mituna could see at least two rotary aircraft still circling, heavy cannons now replaced with the machine guns mounted on their sides. The rotaries fired down into the base. Down below, base personnel ran everywhere – security trying to rally and everyone else trying to escape.

They couldn’t outrun the bullets, of course. Mituna watched as a group of olive blood security got cut down fifty yards from where they were standing in the doorway. He knew they were olive blood when the gunfire hit – tearing them to pieces and scattering them across the ground. Mituna thought he might throw up, but all he could really feel was a combination of shock and terror. He stared.

“Let’s go!” Terezi stepped out the door and Mituna blankly followed after her. “Horuss, which way is the lockup? Horuss?!”

Horuss was still standing inside his workshop, blinking and not moving.

“Oh fucking hell,” Terezi stepped back toward the door. “The lockup?!”

Horuss pointed vaguely.

“Good enough.” Terezi turned back and began to move – Mituna followed again. Behind him, Vriska and Porrim ran to catch up.

Horuss still stood there.

“Shouldn’t we go back?” Mituna asked, shouting to be heard over the gunfire.

Terezi scowled. “If he wants to die, let him die.”

And that was the end of the discussion. They ran along the side of the building, toward the direction Horuss had pointed. There was likely a code on the lockup, and they were just moving from one bad place to another, but standing still seemed like a bad idea. Another group of security ran past them, and Terezi grabbed one of them by the arm – he looked utterly terrified.

“You! Is there a code to the lockup?”

The troll shook his head. “I don’t know! I don’t know!” He pulled his arm away and ran after the rest of his team. Terezi hissed something at him and kept running along the building.

The lockup was a short building not far from the edge of the building that housed Horuss’ workshop. Terezi stopped them at the corner, peering around toward the lockup. Mituna couldn’t see anyone around, but the sound of the rotaries circling and firing from overhead was everywhere. Any minute – any minute and the white-hot lance of a bullet would hit him and it would all be over. All the searing, roiling chaos would end and he would at least be at peace.

He wanted to see Meulin and Kurloz again – to be able to hold them and tell them everything was going to be okay. They’d already been through enough pain for one lifetime.

A roar of gunfire from above and the roof of the lockup shattered as a stream of high-velocity ammunition hit it. The buildings next in line were hit as well, and the rotary roared low and kept flying. At least they hadn’t been spotted.

Terezi motioned for them to follow her as she dashed across the empty space. Mituna followed.

He was out in the open now – the wide space that was maybe only twenty yards but felt like a hundred miles. Above, the roar of the rotaries was everywhere – the pattering of the guns as they lit up – a half-hearted attempt at return fire from below that was met with overwhelming force.

Then the other side of the gap. They pressed up against the lockup, huddling away from the open space that meant death.

Where did they come from?

Rotaries – military? Legiscorpus? What had Scratch promised to get them to come here? Where else was this happening? For all they knew, the whole planet was burning around them – with all the communications down and the Felt effectively a forbidden zone, there was no way to know.

One thing at a time.

Of course there was a lock on the door – an electronic keypad. Terezi swore and swatted at it.

“Fuck!” She screamed – there was no real reason to be quiet with the din of gunfire and circling rotary aircraft. “Fucking dumbass commander piece of _shit!_ ”

The lock wasn’t overly complicated – Mituna glanced at it. He’d seen similar ones in the past. He’d learned a lot about them since he started working with Kurloz and Meulin.

“I can open it,” he said bluntly. “Give me a minute.”

“Fucking _fine!_ You’d better hurry, Captor, we’re kind of on the clock here!” Terezi leaned back against the wall and held her pistol up.

Mituna reached into his pocket and pulled out a small multi-purpose tool he tried to always have with him. He unscrewed the housing for the lock, popped out the top cover, and examined the wires underneath. Despite the formidable bolts in the door itself, the keypad was an old piece of technology that had long outstayed its welcome. He frowned and thought back to the diagrams he’d studied – it was similar to another mechanism he knew well. He had to trace the circuits back to be sure but…

“Oh shit!” Vriska’s voice – Mituna turned to see three trolls in body armor come in from around the corner to one of the nearby buildings. They weren’t dressed like base security. Vriska obviously figured out the same thing, because she raised her pistol and shot three rounds at one of the trolls – two bullets struck their helmet dead in the face and the troll crumpled.

The other two scuttled back behind cover – one let off a few rounds before they went that hit far wide of where they were standing.

Hands shaking, Mituna kept checking the circuit. Next to him, he heard another set of gunshots and glanced to see Terezi firing – another one of the armored trolls dropped. Mituna closed his eyes…

Steady.

He opened his eyes again and focused all his energy on keeping his hands steady. If he messed up the bypass, there was a good chance the keypad would lock them out for good. He checked the wires, ran the trace back in his mind…

And used a jumper to bypass two of the contacts.

Held his breath.

And with a soft  _ click _ and a solid  _ clunk _ the keypad disengaged the door bolts. Mituna pulled the heavy, armor-plated door open. “We’re good to go!”

They all ran inside, pulling the door shut behind them. Terezi engaged the manual lock and pressed her back up against the door. It was thick plated steel – likely proof against anything the soldiers on the ground would be carrying. Probably even against the guns of the rotaries overhead. But those heavy cannons… or if they had explosives!

Mituna tried not to think about it.

The room inside the lockup was completely windowless, lit only by the red glow of its emergency lighting. The walls were lined with racks of weapons – carbines and rifles and light machine guns. Vriska was grinning, already inspecting one of the machine guns.

Raw panic – it rose up inside of Mituna now that they were out of the immediate danger. How many soldiers were out there? How many rotaries were circling and raining death from above? How many more hadn’t arrived yet? His head hurt so much – he couldn’t _think!_

Porrim was leaning up against the wall next to him, her breathing fast and shallow. Her eyes were wide. “What are we supposed to do?” she asked.

Mituna didn’t have an answer. He sat against the wall until Terezi walked up with an assault carbine and a tactical vest loaded with spare magazines.

“Put this on,” she said bluntly. “I’ll get one for you too, Maryam. I don’t care if you barely know how to use it – turn off the safety and pull the trigger in the general direction of the enemy.”

And she was back to racks of firearms, picking out her own gear. Mituna stared at the carbine he was holding. He’d never shot one since initial training – the Fleet had required precisely one day of rifle qualification and the rest had always been on pistols. They didn’t expect the Felt crew on the ships to be doing much actual shooting. The Felt techs in the Army got proper ground combat training, but that was a far cry from anything Mituna had ever done.

But the other option was dying without so much as a whimper. Mituna put the vest on, feeling the weight of the loaded magazines pressing down on him. Once it was adjusted in place, he slung the carbine around his shoulder. It all felt like too much – like too much responsibility for him to manage right now.

Terezi came back with another vest and carbine and handed them to Porrim. Mituna watched as she shrugged the vest around her shoulders and belted it in the middle, then slung the carbine around her body and checked the chamber. She grunted and swung the weapon back around behind her. Seeing Mituna staring, she smiled.

“I said I abhor violence, not that I don’t know how to use a gun.”

“I am gonna fucking kill someone!” Vriska shouted as she walked toward the door holding the machine gun. “Gonna fucking do a goddamn murder!”

Terezi’s voice cut right across the room – “No, you’re not.”

They all turned to look at her. She was the one who wanted to go here – she was the one who wanted to be able to fight back.

“You dumb fucks go out there and you’ll be cut down in seconds. I don’t know what kind of half-assed plan is going on over wherever Cronus is, but it’s gotta be better than this. We have literally no plan – we’re being overrun and most of the base defenses are offline because they all rely on Felt or network tech.”

Vriska stared at her, not moving.

“So what we’re gonna do is get the fuck out of here. Alive. Once we’re clear of this shit-show, we’ll figure out what to do next.” Terezi looked at each of them, daring them to respond.

“Fine!” Vriska shouted. “That’s our plan, then? Run away like ratbeasts off a sinking ship and… what… just _wait?!_ ”

“Essentially, yes,” Terezi said.

“Fuck! _Fine!_ ” Vriska didn’t sound even remotely happy about it, but she didn’t have much of a choice. Terezi was right – they were being picked apart and had no course of action. “So what’s your big escape plan?!”

“I thought this place might have an escape hatch, but it doesn’t.” Terezi frowned. “But I know from the flight in that if we keep going in the opposite direction for long enough we’ll hit a fence line. Beyond that there’s a drainage ditch and a series of open fields.”

“That’s suicide!” Mituna shouted. “The rotaries will pick us off!”

Terezi nodded. “Of course – which is why we’re not going out into the fields. We’re going to get inside the drainage ditch and we’re going to sit there in the dark and wait.”

“That’s it?! We’re just going to sit and wait?!” Mituna couldn’t believe what she was saying. “What then?”

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Terezi snapped back. “It’s not like anyone has a better fucking idea!”

* * *

When Terezi finally pushed open the door, the sound of the rotaries had subsided. Which probably meant they’d landed and were deploying additional soldiers on the ground. Outside was clear – the single troll who’d survived before had decided it would be better to live in cowardice than die in bravery.

The four of them walked around the edge of the lockup and kept low as Terezi guided them straight along to the fence-line in the distance.

“It’s about two hundred yards down,” she hissed back at them. “Keep your weapons ready.”

Mituna held his carbine up, knowing that the only thing to come of his using it would likely be to suddenly alert everyone in the vicinity and get them all killed. The others in front of him at least knew what they were doing, to varying degrees. He doubted Porrim had been in a gunfight, but at least she knew how to use a gun. Mituna was struggling to remember that single day of rifle training that was now more than six sweeps in the past!

Two intersections down – past a series of buildings that were probably storage. Terezi held up a hand and they all stopped… waited…

She nodded and they ran past the gap to the next set of buildings. Mituna could see the tail end of a group of Alternians wearing body armor walking away from them. Once they were safely in the cover of the next set of buildings, Mituna let himself relax again.

Two more sets of buildings. A hundred yards down. They stopped again. This time, Terezi crouched low in the shadow of the buildings and the others followed.

Overhead, Mituna heard the dull roar of a rotary aircraft slowly buzz by. He could practically _feel_ the guns trained on them. But there was no opening salvo of gunfire – no blistering shards of lead that punched into his body. The rotary turned and whirled back over the complex.

They continued – another hundred yards mostly in the cover of storage buildings and they were at the fence line. Normally it would be protected by sentry guns, but everything was currently disabled.

The fence line itself was poorly-maintained. They relied too much on the automated systems to the point where a gap large enough for them to slip through had eroded in one section of the fence.

“Okay, gear off,” Terezi said. “Quick!”

Mituna and Porrim dropped their carbines and vests, followed by Terezi. She kept her pistol in a shoulder holster she’d grabbed from the lockup. Vriska looked reluctant to part with her machine gun, but as soon as Terezi took off her vest, she did the same.

“Under the fucking fence!” Terezi motioned them along and held the edge of the fence. Vriska slid through, then Porrim. Finally it was Mituna’s turn – he dropped to the dry ground and scrabbled through, the dust in his mouth and pebbles bouncing all around. He was through, then dropped down a few feet into the drainage ditch.

Terezi came down right after, landing in a low crouch.

In the distance, the thick buzz of the rotary turned toward them. Terezi looked up sharply.

“Get to the drain pipe!”

She turned and ran toward the pipe at the end of the ditch. Mituna followed closely, paying no mind to what the other two were doing. He just needed to keep up with Terezi – just needed to make it this last distance.

The rotary was getting closer – the sound was louder and louder – but Mituna was afraid to even pause to check where it was.

The pipe was up ahead – just a few yards off.

The sound of the rotary broke over the edge of the buildings. Terezi dropped to a crouch and Mituna followed suit, adopting the same kind of hunched run that she had and hoping desperately that the crew in the rotary wouldn’t see them.

The noise was so loud now! It couldn’t be far off – they would be seen!

Terezi got to the drain pipe and ran inside without hesitation, so Mituna followed. Behind him, he heard Porrim and then Vriska dash into the dark hole of concrete. They stopped moving.

The sound of the rotary swelled as it came out over the drainage ditch. Louder… louder…

And then it started to fade – faded away at the rotary turned back on its patrol route over the base.

Together they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“So… what do we do now?” Mituna asked.

Terezi growled at him. “We’re going to look for a way through the drainage system, we’re going to hope they don’t find us, and we’re going to hope that your friends have a fucking plan.”


	52. First of the Many

**12th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **The Green Moon**

Waking wasn’t a singular moment of realization, but a series of faded ins and outs of reality. Damara found herself drifting towards the edge of consciousness – just close enough to perceive some vague shapes or movement – and then back away. She existed in a well of nothing with a blurred window into reality at one end and no bottom. It was a blur of red pain – of a copper taste in the back of her mouth and a dry throat.

When she finally reached close enough to the top of the well to be in a state that actually be called _waking_ , Damara realized that she was still alive. She was sore all over, but she was alive. Mentally clawing her way to the top, she struggled desperately to break out of the fog that encircled her – even to just sit up.

“...will only make the stitches come out.”

A voice somewhere on the edges of things. Talking to her from just outside the end of perception. Damara struggled again and fought to open her eyes.

The world resolved – blurry at first, then blindingly bright, then evened out into a room. A simple, white-painted room. Medical devices sat throughout – Damara’s dawning realization told her that she was lying in some kind of hospital bed. She tried to sit up.

“No, you’re going to hurt yourself! Do you have any idea how fragile things are right now?” The voice was even – pleasant – coming in on the edge of the haze.

Her stomach hurt. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt. She hadn’t been hurting like that when they arrived. The pain in her guts had been getting worse, but the sythedrine took the edge off of it. And it hadn’t felt anything like this.

Where… am I?

She tried to turn over, toward the voice that spoken, but it was hard.

“Please don’t try to tax yourself. You unfortunately required some emergency surgery.”

_Surgery?!_

What had happened to her? She tried to take a mental inventory as the world in front of her eyes swam.

“Yes. Surgery, darling Damara.”

I… said that out loud?

The voice laughed. “You didn’t, but it’s fine. In your particularly… pliable state I can simply reach out and touch your thoughts.”

Something about the way that the voice was speaking – it pinged something inside Damara’s brain. She drew in a breath and rasped. “Scratch?”

Another laugh – this one sounding almost malicious. “Yes… and no. My dearest, it is considerably more complicated than you can possibly imagine.”

She could turn now – the haze had worn off enough that she was more aware. In a lot more pain, but more aware. Damara looked toward the voice and saw a short troll wearing a kind of red jumpsuit. His horns were stubby almost to the point of nonexistence and his hair was unkempt. The troll smiled.

“I am Kankri Vantas,” he said. “The first of the Many.”

He blinked, and his face glossed over into a weirdly vacant expression. “In truth, it is little more than a shell at this point. A parlor trick that won’t work over any significant distance… but here… in my home? Trivial.”

It was a lot to process all at once – Damara tried to sit up but found herself unable to do so without massive, searing pain. The Kankri-Scratch thing clicked his tongue.

“No, no – that simply won’t do, my child. You see, I have given you a great gift. The gift of life itself!” She smiled at her. “Please don’t take that away from yourself.”

Even coming back up to full consciousness, what he was saying still didn’t make sense. But the pain in her stomach didn’t feel the same anymore. It dawned on her what he was talking about.

The bio-mods!

“Yes, my darling!” Kankri… Scratch? Damara wasn’t sure which to say. Whoever it was, he sounded pleased. “I have taken the liberty of removing and stabilizing your various unstable modifications. Fear not – your enhanced liver will still allow you to drink your pathetic life away! It will, however, no longer also metabolize certain toxins that were slowly killing you. I removed some of the nastier bits, like the enhanced adrenaline system. I believe you’ll find the recovery to be fairly smooth, all things considering.”

She wanted to sit up, but she still wasn’t sure if she could. “How long have I been out?”

Kankri shrugged and blinked – and for a second he didn’t look the same. His expression grew wide-eyed and shocked. “I’m Kankri Vantas, the first of–” He blinked again, and the shocked look disappeared. “I apologize for my manners, my dear. You have been unconscious for a bit over twelve hours. By Alternian recocking it is now the 12th day of the 12th perigee. An auspicious date, I think.”

“Why?” It was all she could get out.

Laughter, again. Why was he still laughing at her? “After all you’ve all done for me? Why would I hold a few rebellious acts against you? I simply want you all to understand my position and work with me. Surely you must understand? You came here with the rebellious former member of the Authority. You choose to side with those who gain nothing by helping the authority.”

It wasn’t right – none of them trusted Scratch any more than the Authority. He had manipulated them – hurt them. He’d been responsible, at least indirectly, for losing Rufioh and Aranea.

“Who _are_ you?” Damara was feeling more clear-headed.

Kankri nodded and smiled broadly. “I am the first of –” he shook his head quickly and the smile faded.

“As far as you’re concerned, dearest, my name is Scratch. The same as always. Whatever this… vessel decided to tell you before.” He shrugged and Damara wasn’t sure if she should be thinking of him as Kankri or Scratch. Maybe the difference didn’t matter, or maybe it didn’t even exist in the first place.

She tried once again to move and Kankri shook his head. “No no, my child. Please sit back and relax. You need to rest.”

“How long?” Damara managed to ask. It was painful, but she was starting to learn how to talk without aggravating anything. “What happened to my friends?”

“Which ones?” Kankri asked. “The ones here on the Green Moon? Or the ones down below at the Offworld Launch Center?”

For a moment, Kankri’s eyes fluttered as if he was about to fall asleep, then he straightened up and looked directly at Damara. “Everyone on the Green Moon is being held together. I have no doubt they will try to plot against me somehow, but there’s essentially nothing they can do now. Your friends down below are, last I checked, hiding in a drainage ditch. Sadly, I don’t have my eye on them at the moment, but they’ll turn up.”

Damara started to speak again, but Kankri put up a hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’m getting to it, darling. I assume you’re about to ask what’s going to happen to you? Yes? Of course you are. In any case, I plan to mostly leave you and your friends alone. Once I’m satisfied that you’re well enough to walk around, I plan to let you and your friends wander the parts of this complex designated for myself and my… associates. You won’t be allowed to return to Alternia right away, of course. Not until I can assure that you wouldn’t be able to cause additional problems. While I have no doubt you’ll come around to my way of seeing things, I also don’t doubt your essential rebellious spirit.”

She shook her head. “You’re gonna just have to kill us then, because we’re not giving up on this.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Kankri said and bowed his head. “You’re so much prettier when you’re not spouting empty rhetoric, dearest. I have no intention of taking unnecessary life.”

“Just the necessary life, right? Just who you need to kill?” She groaned – it still hurt to talk, but it was worth it.

Kankri replied with a shrug – “Why not? Are you going to argue that the lives of some imperialists aren’t worth trading for peace?”

That was a funny concept – coming from the one who’d shown an interest in control and nothing more. Damara wasn’t sure exactly what Scratch’s vision for his reign over the Empire would look like, but she was fairly sure that peace wasn’t a substantial part of it.

“You know this Empire could be united,” Kankri said. “The far-flung colonies that we demonize and pacify. The ones we call terrorists. My connection to the Felt – I can feel all those ships out there in the depth of the void. I can feel every relay station on every world your species has touched. Do you know how that feels, my dear? Do you have any idea?”

She was silent.

“Of course you don’t. You could never – because you’re imprisoned by the flesh you’re bound within. The flesh that was, up until a few hours ago, killing you from within. I offer unity. Isn’t that wonderful?”

No!

“And why not?” Kankri asked, his eyes fluttering again. “Why not, my lovely Damara?”

“Because they don’t fucking want it,” she spat the words out, the disgust barely concealed. “Do you see the actual _people_ out there beyond those relay stations and ships? Do you know what they want? Because I don’t either – because there’s millions of them on thousands of worlds. The whole time I was in the Army they told me that everyone we went up against was the same – the terrorists who hated everything good. Now you’re trying to tell me that everyone out there is the same – they’re all yearning to be unified under _your_ benevolent rule. Have you considered actually asking them what they want? Did you even consider it?”

Kankri shrugged and the look on his face – whatever was going on here, that look was all Scratch. “Darling… they don’t know what they want. None of you do, really. You run around like chickens with your heads cut off.”

“Chickens?” Damara stared at him – she didn’t know the word.

“Cluckbeasts, I mean. Never mind.” Kankri shook his head. “It’s not important. I’ve already taken most of Alternia’s military infrastructure. The last piece – the Deep Felt relays – are taking some time. But all of it will fall into line.”

Kankri walked to the other end of the room and leaned against the wall, sighing. “Don’t you get tired of it? Don’t you just get sick of the endless cycle – seeding colony worlds that will be tomorrow’s rebel terrorists? Does that seem sustainable to you? This Empire needs order.”

There needs to not be an Empire…

“I’m sorry, can you think up a bit.” Kankri laughed at his joke.

His face locked up and he stared into nothing for a second, then snapped back. “My apologies, dearest, but I must attend to something that requires immediate attention. My _god_ he’s becoming a nuisance.”

With a blink, Kankri’s face changed again – there was a dawning confusion as he looked around the room. “Hello,” he said. “Have we met? My name is Kankri Vantas, the–”

“First of the many,” Damara groaned and sank down into the bed. “I know, okay. Just leave me alone.”

Kankri shrugged, and with a blank look on his face he turned and walked out of the room.


	53. Duality

It felt good to do it – to finally lash out for once in his miserable existence. Messiahs. Devils. It didn’t matter who or what they were, because in this moment Kurloz Makara felt only one thing.

Anger.

Rage so intense that it threatened to consume every fiber of his being.

His fist whipped through the air and connected with Meenah’s jaw, sending her sideways with a _crack_ and a series of shouted curses. Meenah dropped to her knees and slid back on the dull metal that covered the floor of the room they were all being held in.

“This is _your_ fault!” he screamed at her, moving forward and raising a fist. “All the people that’ve been hurt – or been killed! Rufioh! Aranea!”

At that last name, Kurloz saw something spark in Meenah’s eyes. She stood up, wiped a trace of blood from her mouth, and glared at him.

“Keep her name out of your mouth, you piece of shit.” Her voice was low, but the tone was unmistakable. “At least she was trying to fix things. What did you do? Sit in the fucking van and go on about your precious fucking Messiahs? Did that help you feel self-righteous? You never had to get your hands dirty, after all.”

“And you did, sister?” Kurloz snarled at her. “Fuschia blood… stinking of your privilege and wealth. All you had to do was be quiet and you could’ve had anything.”

She stepped forward. “You’re right, Kurloz. You’re fucking right! I could’ve just stayed quiet and I could’ve just lived comfortably. But that wasn’t what I did because…”

She stopped – Kurloz was raising his fist again when suddenly… everything broke down. He saw her clearly and she had tears streaming down her face. And she didn’t look angry but she looked _hurt_ and it had nothing to do with being hit. A strong grip on his shoulder and he turned to see Meulin shaking her head.

No, this isn’t helping! She signed and continued shaking her head. You’re not like this.

“You don't…” he stopped and took a breath. You don’t know what I’m like. I don’t know what I’m like. Up here… in this place… what are we even doing here?! I’m lost, sister!

Meulin pulled back on his shoulder and Kurloz took a step away from Meenah. The fuschia blood didn’t move to advance again – she was crying in earnest now.

“What use was the money?” Meenah spoke around a sob. “I couldn’t even be there to save her.”

Kurloz turned to look at Meulin – he didn’t know what to say to this.

Are you two done squabbling like wigglers?! Meulin was scowling. We’ve been stuck here for hours and still have no idea what the fuck is happening!

Kittybitch…

Don’t fucking start with me now! You need to get your shit together or we’re all fucking dead! She balled up a fist and slapped it into her other palm. 

Kurloz nodded, silently – then turned to Meenah. “Sister… I’m… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” Meenah grunted. She sat down on the floor heavily and closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You or some other fucker… beat the shit out of me and it still doesn’t bring her back.”

Latula walked over and sat down next to Meenah, awkwardly putting an arm around her shoulder. Meenah shrugged her off at first, then reluctantly leaned into it.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and it almost immediately slid open to reveal a short Alternian wearing red. His horns were short and stubby, and his hair was cut short, almost to the point of being bald. Kurloz blinked. The troll blinked back.

“Can we help you, brother?” Kurloz stared and the troll smiled.

“I am… I am…” the troll looked confused for a moment. “I am one of many.”

And then his face changed – the troll’s eyes rolled back and when he was looking at Kurloz again he looked _different._ And when he spoke he sounded different – talked in a voice that Kurloz had never heard in his life… but he knew exactly how it was going to sound.

“Hello, Mr. Makara. I see you’re… working out some interpersonal issues.” The troll smirked and Kurloz could see every inch of the Devil hiding behind there. Maybe the Messiahs were real and maybe they weren’t – but the Devil certainly was.

“What? Nothing to say?” the troll – Scratch, he might as well called – clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You had so many thoughts on me before and now…” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Interesting. You’re an odd one… I can’t seem to read you at all. Very interesting.”

Meulin poked him in the side. What’s he saying?

He’s Scratch. Kurloz knew that sounded crazy. I don’t know how I know it but…

The rage perked up again – ran up through his spine and into his neck and his face grew hot. Kurloz grit his teeth until they ground together and curled his fists tightly.

If the Scratch-troll expected Kurloz to do something, he didn’t move fast enough – the punch was already connecting with the underside of the troll’s jaw before he could respond. There was a _crunch_ that sounded unpleasantly wet, and the troll’s eyes rolled back and he fell down to the ground, hitting the metal floor hard.

“Fuck!” Kurloz yelled. “I’m so tired of this motherfuckin shit! You wanna tell us what’s happening?! You wanna tell us what happened to Damara or Aradia?!”

He walked toward the door, his long strides quickly taking him across the room and away from the unconscious figure lying on the ground. Hopefully the door was unlocked and then he could–

He stopped short as the door slid open again and another troll stood there, looking at him with the same eyes as before. This one looked different – slightly different horns and a bit taller. Scraggly mop of hair instead of near-bald. But the eyes were the same.

“Hello, Mr. Makara,” the troll said calmly. “I was just looking for you. If you don’t mind, please come have a short walk and chat with me.” His tone didn’t make it sound like it was a request.

* * *

The others stayed behind in the room while the new troll walked out with Kurloz – the new Scratch-troll? Kurloz wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but he couldn’t deny what he saw with his own eyes. The corridor outside the room was a plain one, lined with a kind of utilitarian beige wall that was commonly used as internal cladding on Alternian Fleet bases.

“Mr. Makara, I am sorry to see you so consumed with anger right now,” Scratch said quietly, _tsk_ ing as he finished. “Out of all of them, I thought that maybe you would show the most promise.” He stopped talking and seemed to be concentrating on something.

“That’s odd,” he said. “I really thought it was the other host’s biology but… even this… the first of them. Very odd. In any case, yes – high hopes and all.”

“What are you talking about?” Kurloz asked. They came down the hall to an intersection and Scratch took them to the right, around a bend, and down another side corridor lined in the same plain beige.

Scratch looked over. “Really, Mr. Makara! You sell yourself short – such potential you have. And you’re so well-spoken. I would’ve thought you better than that brutish display inside.”

“So I’m not allowed to be angry, motherfucker?” Kurloz narrowed his eyes. “Because if that’s what you think…”

“Oh no,” Scratch smiled at him. “It’s not your anger I take issue with – it’s your method of expressing it. Anger is what I was counting on – anger at a broken system ruled by a corrupt few. Don’t you want to tear that down? I saw what you did to Meenah!”

“That’s not the same – Meenah wasn’t… I just got pissed off, motherfucker.” Kurloz crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why would I want to help you? You’re just as bad as the Empress!”

“And how is that?” The Scratch-troll raised an eyebrow. “You believe that I am as bad as a genocidal monster who would subjugate an entire race of people for… for what? Power?” He laughed. “I’m _just as bad?_ ”

Kurloz stopped walking – the troll walked a bit past and then turned to look at him. He wanted to punch this one too – to take this piece of shit and turn him inside-out. “The people don’t deserve this. They deserve a chance to live for themselves!”

“To live for _themselves?_ ” The patronizing tone in the last word was unmistakable. “Really? The race of people who worship a singular God-Empress? The people who could expand endlessly into the stars… yet still choose to kill each other over a few rocks. The people who reach out to touch things they barely understand and then cry out when those things touch them back!”

Kurloz glared. “You talk as if you aren’t one of us!”

“You have _no idea,_ Mr. Makara.” A high-pitched laugh and somehow didn’t sound fully Alternian. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re here and Alternia will fall below you. The sooner you accept that, the better. So many already have – I hope you didn’t think I’m doing this all by myself.”

He was right – there was no way that any of this would be possible without help. Even though Scratch had an obviously advanced level of control over anything connected to the Felt, that didn’t give him the ability to materialize soldiers, or Legislacerators, or pilot rotary gunships. How many people were helping him? How had they been swayed? By the promise of simple material comfort, or by some kind of ideological purity? The Messianic Order of Joy had only dreamt of having the kind of influence over others that Scratch seemed to wield with impunity.

The Scratch-troll stared at Kurloz and he wondered what this person was. Was this troll in some kind of suggestible state? Were they playing a role? Neither of those seemed quite right. It seemed more like this troll _was_ Scratch. But also wasn’t. Kurloz shook his head – everything was foggy inside after having tried to process so much these last few day-cycles.

“I still can’t reach out to you,” the troll said, his voice tinged with disappointment. “It’s a pity. It would make it so much easier to communicate.”

A moment passed and they watched each other silently. The Scratch-troll was the one to break the silence.

“Come along, Mr. Makara… I have something to show you.”


	54. Introspection

Meulin didn’t want Kurloz to go… but she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. The strange troll that Kurloz said was Scratch had come and the two of them had left together. And she was left in silence, with no way to talk to anyone. Aradia was gone – when they’d all woken up, Damara and Aradia were the only ones not with the rest. At least Kurloz had been there – that had helped.

Now there was no one. She had no idea if Aradia was alive or dead. She supposed it was likely that everyone was still alive – for whatever reason, Scratch didn’t seem particularly interested in killing them. But _why_ she was alive – why any of them were alive – was a mystery.

* * *

Every space within every space – the distance between every atom of her very being.   
  
She could feel it – watching…

* * *

Meulin could feel the presence, almost inside of her head. It was so much _closer_ than it had been before. It was like the feeling was all around her – emanating from the very heart of the Green Moon. She’d felt it all along – the sense of being watched constantly. The need to run away from some vaguely defined _other_ that loomed in the back of her mind. She had always assumed it was the trauma – that souvenir she’d taken home with her from her last tour of duty. And she supposed that was true, after a fashion… but it wasn’t all.

Because something was here. Something old – older than the Empire itself. Maybe it hadn’t always been here, but it had always been _somewhere._ Meulin couldn’t get the thought out of her mind.

* * *

She was in the hospital for perigees. All those long hours spent alone, when Kurloz wasn’t visiting.   
  
All that time to think.   
  
To remember.

* * *

Meenah and Latula were talking, but she shouldn’t hear them. Even under the best conditions, reading lips was tricky – it was easy to mistake what someone was saying if they didn’t speak deliberately, and they weren’t speaking deliberately. Meenah was waving her arms and pointing toward the wall, Latula was shaking her head. She figured they were probably talking about Kurloz. That would make sense. Trying to figure out what happened to him.

Somewhere back down on Alternia, Mituna and the rest were… she didn’t know. Sitting in the Launch Center and wishing they could help more. At least Mituna was – he had always wanted to help however he could.

* * *

Mituna broke away from the kiss first. He was sitting across from Meulin on the bed, his legs crossed – a frown on his face.   
  
“Yeah, that feels weird.” He shook his head. “Sorry… I’m not saying you did something wrong, just…”   
  
And she knew what he meant. She slid back over and put her arms around him again. Mituna settled into the hug, smiling. “I know what you mean, yeah.” She squeezed.   
  
“You’re not upset?” he asked.   
  
“No,” she said quietly. “We gave it a shot, and it didn’t feel right. Uh… same thing with Kurloz. I don’t know… just…”   
  
She trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, but she knew what she meant. That was more frustrating than anything else. She loved them in a way that felt like a matesprit, but wasn’t quite. That felt like moirallegiance but… wasn’t quite.   
  
“I don’t know how to put it,” she said bluntly. “I don’t know what it’s called. I don’t care either. We love each other, that’s plenty. After what we’ve been through.”   
  
“Yeah,” Mituna said softly. “I know what you mean.” He reached out and took her hand.   
  
“Kurloz is… I don’t know. He’s like an anchor for both of us.” Meulin smiled. “He keeps us from losing ourselves in…”   
  
In what?   
  
In the beyond. The forever.   
  
She wasn’t sure in _what._ But it felt like the right thing to say.   
  
Watching over all.   
  
“I know what you mean,” Mituna said, still holding her hand.   
  
He’d be back soon. Then the three of them could sit and talk about... anything.   
  
About the watcher…   
  
About almost anything. They’d all end up piled in together and that was one time that all of them felt genuinely safe. They all had their own reasons to feel vulnerable – to feel like the world was…   
  
Waiting…   
  
Going to hurt them again. Because they’d all been through their own struggles. And Kurloz… his was different than theirs, and maybe that made him stronger in some ways. Because even though he’d never been traumatized like they had, his devotion had meant that his faith had been tried and tested. He was attuned to…   
  
No, that’s not right…   
  
Something bigger than himself.   
  
You’ve seen it… touched it…   
  
Something that was more than just the sum total of the bad things they’d done, or the bad things they’d had done to them. He gave them something _more_ that they could look to. A kind of shining beacon in…   
  
The darkness…   
  
The darkness. Meulin knew that was why they all got along so well together. They complemented each other – made each other feel more whole when they were together. And maybe they had to do some things that hurt a few people to get by, but that was mostly just taking stuff from the wealthy. They could afford to lose that small amount.   
  
She leaned against Mituna and closed her eyes.   
  
And the thing _beyond_ turned to look at her.

* * *

Memories were there, just beneath the surface. The vague sense that there was always something there that looked down on her. For so long, she told herself it was only in her mind. And, she supposed, that was true… in a sense. But that feeling in her mind had a real presence behind it. Now, more than ever before, she could sense that presence all around her.

She wished desperately that Kurloz was back – or that Mituna was there. Or even that Aradia was there so she could at least talk to someone. That was being better than trapped inside the world of silence.

Because she was starting to hear again.

But not anything from the outside world.

* * *

Kurloz had fallen asleep. He’d come by to visit her earlier that day and ended up sitting next to the hospital bed and leaning up against it. At some point, he had dropped off. Meulin sat there in silence and watched him sleep.   
  
Everything was so dull. The doctors told her that her hearing would likely recover, but for now everything sounded like she had her head dunked under water. She’d learned to sign in order to be able to talk normally to _someone_ – a few of the doctors and nurses knew how. Kurloz had been learning too, and that meant a lot to her. The alternative was trying to fight through that muffled world just to talk to anyone.   
  
There was something else, though…   
  
In the back of her mind…   
  
It wasn’t something she truly _heard_ so much as… experienced?   
  
She put a hand in Kurloz’s thickly curled hair and smiled. Meulin was glad that he came here – almost every day at this point. Even if he’d first showed because the Messianic Order of Joy encouraged its devotees to visit the invalid, he kept coming back because he cared about her. That was clear enough from how he interacted with her. And it never felt like he was looking down on her as an object of pity.   
  
Some of the medical staff pitied her, and she hated it. She was recovering from being hurt, not some kind of paper-thin flower that would wilt if they tried to treat her like an actual person. But Kurloz respected her. He respected what she had survived and, more than that, he respected who she was as a person.   
  
That was something she wasn’t always clear on anymore. Who she was. After everything she’d done without questioning it – what did that make her? After everything she’d seen…   
  
Everything that saw her…   
  
But Kurloz looked at her and didn’t see the blood that soaked her past through. He saw a person who could heal from what she’d been through and come out better on the other end. It wasn’t the only reason, but she felt like it was a big part of why she was in love with him. It was a feeling that was hard to put into words – a deep care that seemed to extend around the idea of a matesprit completely. She didn’t feel exactly how she knew she was _supposed_ to feel about him, but she loved him deeply.   
  
That was enough.   
  
And she hoped it would always be enough.


	55. Solidarity

Damara sat up when the door opened again, expecting to have another run-in with Kankri. Instead, she was met with the sight of Aradia – the woman who looked strangely similar to her, but not. As if she were a different version of Damara that had come up under different circumstances. Two sides to the same blood-soaked coin. Separated by space and time, maybe, but the same in so many ways.

“He asked me to speak to you.” She said it plainly, her voice flat – Damara couldn’t read her expression. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t suppose I have any way of stopping you – sure.” Damara pushed herself the rest of the way up in the bed, her side aching the whole way.

Aradia was at her bedside and Damara could see the furrow in between her eyebrows – the smallest trace of a scowl forming. She glanced around the room.

“He operated on you, right? Or his… I don’t know what to call them. His… servants? I would say _followers_ but it doesn’t feel like it’s that voluntary.”

Damara nodded. “Yeah, he said he stabilized all of my bio-mods. I don’t know what that entails, but…”

“You’ll feel different. The combat enhancers are gone – the versions we got can’t be left in without killing us eventually. Some of the more permanent effects – the muscular conditioning – that’ll be around forever. A lot of your organs will still kind-of do what they could just… less so.” She peered at Damara. “The combat haze though… that’s gone.”

Damara felt herself starting to cry. Every time she felt that crawling sensation – right before the adrenaline glands kicked in – she knew that someone was going to get hurt. If she was lucky, it would be the right person. If not…

Then you kill your friends.

“I’ve read your file,” Aradia said quietly. “I know what happened right before you were discharged. I know what the file says.” She paused. “I also know that what’s in the file is complete hoofbeast shit.”

Citation for bravery – Sergeant Damara Megido, while under enemy fire, returned fire with her personal weapon. When her squad was wiped out and her ammunition depleted, she retrieved the weapons from her former squad and continued to press the attack. Due to her bravery, Sergeant Megido was able to hold a critical strategic position until reinforcements could arrive.

The tears were streaming down her face. “The file is all lies…”

“I know.” The voice was barely audible. “I’ve read the classified internal report. I know what happened.”

“The doctors said it was a malfunction! Can you believe it? Like I was a machine!” There was a white-hot anger under the words and Damara wasn’t sure who she was angry at. Herself? The military that sponsored her combat implants? The doctors who installed them? The entire system that facilitated the whole process.

Damara wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “There wasn’t an enemy presence there! The closest rebel force was a day-cycle’s march away. They deployed us in a guard position because… I don’t know. They didn’t have anything else for us to do?”

She let out a noise that was half sob and half whimper.

Sergeant Megido’s squad was deployed into the area of operations to conduct reconnaissance when they came under fire by a superior enemy force. Outnumbered and without support, Sergeant Megido rallied her fellow commandos and led them in a defense of their position.

“I know,” Aradia said. “You were deployed basically to babysit a bunch of sandbags in the dark. You probably just sat around talking, right?”

“I don’t remember!” It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to – tried to think around the red haze that came after. “I can’t remember what we did.”

“And then what happened after. You remember that well enough.” Her voice was low and waivered slightly. Because she’d felt that same thing – that rush of hot adrenaline and something else. And then she wasn’t herself anymore.

Sergeant Megido exhibited exceptional bravery, killing no less than a dozen enemy combatants. At one point, when Sergeant Megido’s weapon jammed, she resorted to eliminating at least one hostile using hand-to-hand combat.

And then she’d come down from that high.

And she saw what she did.

“The extraction team found you in the morning, lying up against the sandbags and sobbing to yourself – saying their names over and over like it’d bring them back. That’s not in the file – I talked to the member of the search and rescue team that first found you. Fifteen casualties.” Aradia shook her head.

“Why are you doing this?” Damara cried, hanging her head and shutting her eyes. “Why are you talking about this now?”

“They planted a poison seed inside you.” Aradia moved closer, her forehead nearly touching Damara’s as she leaned over the bed. “They had no care for what might happen – you were an effective soldier. Losing fifteen soldiers… that was an acceptable loss in exchange for what you’d all given them. The dozens upon dozens that you killed. The missions you accomplished. The preservation of the Empire.”

Damara laughed. “The Empire. Of course. Glory to Her Imperious Condescension! Long live Alternia! Fucking shit. My CO couldn’t even look me in the eyes when she read the citation out – everyone knew it was a bunch of shit.”

“And how would you like to get a little bit of revenge?” Aradia’s voice was even lower – barely audible.

Was that what she wanted? Revenge? Redemption? Was either of those even possible?

“I don’t know that’s what I’d call it.” Damara’s breath came out as a shuddering groan that was half-sigh and half-sob. “I just… I wish there was something else I could do.”

Without warning, Aradia was hugging her and crying. Part of it felt genuine – Aradia knew what she’d been through. Maybe not exactly, but close enough. They’d both been taken and used by the Empire – more than once. That part felt _real_ and Damara leaned into the hug. But part of it felt… it felt like a disguise.

“Scratch doesn’t trust me,” she whispered. “I don’t understand why he leaves us all alive but… I was wrong about him. I thought he was somewhere out there – out in the Far Reaches. He’s not… he’s right here, on the Green Moon.”

“Kankri…” Damara responded, as quietly as she could. But she felt Aradia shake her head.

“No, I don’t think so. There’s something else here. I can _feel_ it, stronger than ever before. I think Meulin can too. It feels like it’s coming from _inside_ the moon.”

* * *

After Aradia left, Damara was alone for a while. She wasn’t sure for how long – time was difficult to track. She slept for a time, and when she woke she was feeling better. She imagined that she’d been given something to help her heal faster than normal. When she tried sitting up and swinging her legs out over the edge of the bed, it didn’t even hurt.

Damara slid off and stood on the metal floor, leaning up against the bed. She was still standing like that when the door and opened and, once again, Kankri Vantas was standing there.

“I see your recovery continues, my darling,” he said. But it wasn’t really him speaking, was it? Aradia was right – it wasn’t him. All those flashes of a different person that called himself the First of the Many. But that wasn’t who she was talking to – she wasn’t talking to Kankri right now, she was talking to Scratch.

“I’ll be okay,” she grimaced. It still hurt, but less so.

“I would hope so. Your talk with Aradia was educational, I trust? I had hoped that someone with comparable experience would be able to reach out to you. Explain that I’m simply here to help liberate all of you from the Empire’s tyranny. I admit that I’ve had to engage in some unpleasantries to get here. I would hope that there’s no hard feelings.”

She shifted against the bed and looked him over. Aradia was right – Kankri didn’t look normal… it was like someone was controlling him like a puppet. Someone practiced, but still not quite fully aware of what they were doing.

“She… reminded me of some things I don’t like to think about.” Damara grit her teeth.

“Of course, my sweet girl. That’s why what I’m doing is so critically important. I don’t want to see anyone else hurt without cause. The reason I’m holding you all here rather than simply flushing you out the nearest airlock is because I don’t want to see you hurt. I deeply regret the necessity of my earlier actions – my child, I want only to protect you. Once everything is complete, I will return you to your homes unharmed, of course.” Kankri smiled – Scratch smiled.

It sounded like a lie. Maybe not in the strictest sense of the word – she didn’t think he was lying about returning them to their homes, exactly. It was the kind of lie where even if it was technically true, there was so much left unsaid – things that concealed all of the real meaning.

It sounded like when the recruiter had told her that the Army would be her chance at a different life.

He hadn’t been _wrong._


	56. What Lies Within

“What is it?” Kurloz asked the Scratch-troll with the stubby horns and unkempt hair. “What is it you’re going to show me?”

They stood together in the industrial elevator as it ground its way noisily down, passing nondescript walls of green-tinted stone reinforced with steel and concrete. Beyond the fact that they were descending into the Green Moon itself, Kurloz had no idea what the point of any of this was. The Scratch-troll had said he had something to show Kurloz and then… nothing. Just stopped talking.

“Hey, motherfucker, I was talking to you!” Kurloz heard his voice starting to snarl. The troll looked confused for a minute, then smiled.

“I am Kankri Vantas, the first of the–” and he stopped suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch. His expression cooled and he shook his head.

“I do apologize, Mr. Makara – I am finding this one to be difficult lately. I am stretching myself thin as it is.”

He didn’t say anything else, only lapsing back into the uncomfortable silence they’d been standing in for the past several minutes. The elevator groaned and creaked downward. After some time, it rumbled to a stop and the doors slid open to reveal a long corridor lined with concrete. The Scratch-troll – Kurloz felt like calling him “Kankri” would be somehow wrong – walked down the corridor, motioning for Kurloz to follow.

As they walked, the troll finally broke his silence. “I don’t know why, but I feel that you will appreciate this in general. You seem more… introspective than many of your colleagues. Less consumed with fighting against the ghosts of the past. Where they see only trauma to be avoided at all costs, you see _potential!_ ”

Scratch paused and the troll body – Kurloz was becoming increasingly sure that this was some kind of act of puppetry – frowned. “It still frustrates me that I can’t seem to get a read on you, Mr. Makara.”

Kurloz wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but he could guess. “I guess that’s too motherfuckin’ bad, huh?”

A shrug. “I suppose. It’s not especially important at this point – more a curiosity.” They reached a large metal door set in a heavy frame. The frame itself spanned the entire width and breadth of the corridor, and the door was at least twice Kuloz’s height. It was clearly intended to keep people out. “I wonder, Mr. Makara… don’t you ever tire of fighting?”

“What?” Kurloz glared.

“You. Don’t you ever tire. Of fighting. Of constantly thrashing against a system that so actively hates you and your friends. Of sacrificing and dying and suffering – for what? To barely scrape by? Wouldn’t you rather thrive? To enjoy a society where there’s opportunity for all?”

It was all lies. Kurloz didn’t know _how_ he could be so certain, but it was the truth. Scratch would promise freedom and deliver a new Empire. An Empire under his rule, enforced by his own specific brand of the same that had flourished for hundreds of sweeps under the rule of the Empress.

The Scratch-troll pressed a button and the door slowly ground open, revealing a cavernous room beyond. There was a metal platform with a console on it, and then the room opened up to reveal a series of glass tanks lined up in neat rows. The tanks were illuminated, and as Kurloz walked in, he saw what was inside.

Trolls. Dozens upon dozens of trolls, mostly with stunted, stubby horns similar to the one on the troll who was currently smiling at him.

“Amazing, isn’t it? What they thought they could get away with.” He shook his head. “Simply amazing.”

“What the fuck is this?” Kurloz’s mind was racing to try to process what he was seeing. A hundred trolls here – maybe more. And why? To what purpose? He remembered what Aradia had told him… a living computer… and he stared.

“This is the Alternian military’s greatest success and greatest folly – the crowning achievement of the Spire division. This is the ultimate extension of the ill-gotten research into the nature of the Deep Felt.”

“A computer?” Kurloz looked over the rows of trolls, suspended in their tanks. How many sweeps had they been there, in that state of half-death?

“No, Mr. Makara. Not a mere computer. A conduit into the Deep Felt itself… well, that’s what you all call it. It doesn’t truly have a name any more than your own universe does. But for the purposes of illustration, it’ll do. A large number of trolls with certain specific mutations – trolls who show especially promising ability to connect directly to the Felt. They are immersed in these tanks that not only preserve their life nearly indefinitely, but also allow them to link together in a way that is truly spectacular.”

Kurloz looked at him. “You’re him, aren’t you? Or all of these are you? Motherfucker – I don’t know how it works!”

The Scratch-troll laughed, and Kurloz realized how out of place it sounded. As if this wasn’t something he was used to doing. “Oh dear me… you have such a simple way of looking at the world, don’t you? Everything must be in front of you – must be something you can reach out and touch. I suppose that’s to be expected of someone who recently underwent a crisis of faith. What if I told you that your original way of seeing me was _almost_ correct? So close it almost hurt me not to be able to tell you the truth.”

“So what is the truth?!” Kurloz demanded. “What’s so motherfucking important that you won’t just speak plainly?”

The troll – the hollow shell that the thing calling itself Scratch inhabited – leaned over and whispered in his ear.

Kurloz was in a daze as he walked back to the room where the rest were being held. While the troll – the thing that had whispered some small part of the truth to him – led him along and he followed without saying anything. In that same daze, he wandered in through the door and stared at the others. Latula was nowhere to be found. Damara and Aradia were still nowhere to be found. Meulin was looking at him expectantly, sitting right next to that bitch Meenah Peixes.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he snarled down at Meenah. “You’re poison, Peixes.”

From behind Kurloz, Kankri cleared his throat. “Ms. Peixes, I humbly request the pleasure of your company for a moment.”

“I’d rather not,” she responded quickly.

The voice that came in response was cold and lacked even the barest shred of personality. “Do not misunderstand me, dearest – this is not optional.”

* * *

What is it? You look like you saw something… She let her hands drop. 

You feel it, don’t you? He sighed to himself – what was he saying? No… never mind.

She stared at him for a minute and her expression softened – her eyes widened. I know what you mean. What is it?

There’s a room full of… of trolls. Like that one that showed up here. Just in tanks… part of some kind of…

Kurloz stopped – he wasn’t sure how to put it. What Scratch – what the thing that Scratch spoke through – had said.

A gateway. It’s like a gateway. Or a focus – a lens!

He expected Meulin to question this, or maybe just not to believe him. But instead he saw a look of pure terror cross her face – she took a step back.

Watcher.

What do you mean? What is it, sister? Kurloz took a step forward but Meulin shook her head frantically. 

We can’t let him – it – do this. Whatever he’s planning – whatever he claims. It’s going to be worse than we could possibly imagine.

Kurloz knew what Scratch had said well enough – that this was a kind of focal point for something else. Aradia’s story about a particularly powerful troll out somewhere near the Far Reaches.

He’s still just a troll, sister. Even if he’s powerful…

She shook her head. No! Not a troll!

Aradia told us, remember? The Far Reaches – someone’s out there, and this is his way to communicate.

NO! She slapped her hands together for emphasis. Her hands were moving so fast now that Kurloz had trouble keeping up. Aradia was wrong! You don’t understand! I’ve felt this thing inside my head before! This isn’t some troll sitting out in space beaming their consciousness back. This is something else… someTHING else! She signed the word with deliberate emphasis on the second part. 

And Kurloz realized that in spite of everything he’d been through, he still had so much to learn.

What is it then, sister? Please…

Something old – something that’s been watching us for a very long time… or maybe not. Maybe it just noticed us when Spire was doing their work here. It doesn’t matter – I’ve had this thing looking at me before. It watches through the Deep Felt – lives out in that same space.

She looked around, her eyes wide with near-panic. We have to destroy this place – to destroy that… that lens.

If we don’t… I don’t know, but that… thing. That thing wears the faces of Alternians and talks like us to fool us into thinking it’s so much smaller than it really is.

The words, whispered into his ear.

_Mr. Makara, this is merely a gateway into this place for me – a way for me to easily see and hear into this particular corner of the universe. There is much out there you cannot understand._

We have to stop it!

She was right.


	57. Secondary Line

**12th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **Offworld Launch Center, North Alternian**

The sounds of the rotary aircraft had faded away late in the first day. They’d slept fitfully into the second day, taking shifts on watch. But no one had come to look for them. Mituna spent most of his time worrying about his friends – wondering where they were and whether they were okay.

You already know where they are.

The Green Moon. It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence – Kanaya’s final transmission had made the connection clear enough. Something was up there – Scratch was up there. It was the only possibility – if the rest of them had anything resembling a plan, it would be to find their way up there and try to do… something.

Mituna sat back on his haunches and looked at the rest of them – Vriska and Terezi sitting off by themselves, talking quietly. Porrim by herself, crouching with her eyes closed. They had some basic weapons, but they were too few in number to be able to retake the Launch Center. At this point, they might as well start trying to figure out a way to escape.

A scrabbling outside the drainage pipe, echoing down. Terezi turned her head and jumped up, holding a carbine close to her body. Mituna grabbed his own weapon and followed her as she walked toward the end of the pipe. Whoever was out there was wandering around almost at random – even Mituna could hear them tripping on the hard scrabble and sliding down.

Terezi stopped and put a hand up – Mituna immediately stopped walking. Terezi crept forward, her footsteps completely silent against the ground. The scrabbling got closer to the entrance of the drain pipe.

In one fluid motion, Terezi rounded the corner of the pipe and raised her carbine.

“No! Don’t shoot!” The shout in response was familiar. “I was trying to find you!”

Mituna ran up behind Terezi and saw the source of the odd noises and confused shout – Horuss Zahak was standing on the small slope that came up from the drain and trembling with his hands raised. Terezi growled at him and stepped forward.

“Get your ass in here. You’ve got a minute to explain yourself before I gut you and dump your body in the ditch.” She wasn’t exaggerating.

Horuss half-slid down the slope and ducked inside the drainage pipe, his posture visibly relaxing as soon as he was out of the open. Terezi poke the muzzle of the carbine up against his neck.

“How’d you get out? What are you doing here? How’d you find us?” She pressed the barrel of the gun forward. “Talk fast.”

“I simply walked out as the enemy forces occupied the base! My humble workshop isn’t the main control room – the fact that it has command access is… unpublished information. I had no idea where you went but I assumed you had also made it outside the complex. The drainage system was a logical choice.”

He had a point – the drainage system should’ve been the first place that Scratch’s little army looked. Which meant they had no particular interest in finding Mituna and the rest.

“Why are you here?” Terezi hadn’t moved the gun. “Why did you come find us?”

“Because I saw what the terminal said… and I can help you!” He nodded eagerly. “I can help fight Scratch!”

* * *

They moved further back into the tunnels, taking Horuss with them. When they’d rounded a bend and the main source of light was the small flashlight that Vriska had pulled from the armory, they finally stopped.

“Okay, talk.” Terezi had stopped aiming her gun at Horuss, but her tone made it clear that the option wasn’t entirely off the table.

Horuss swallowed heavily and glanced around at the assembled group. No one said anything. “The Alternian Army is moving in to try to retake this facility!”

“That’s impossible,” Mituna said. “They’re basically running dark – Felt and most communications are being intercepted. How did you even find this out?”

“They’re using the tight-band network.” Horuss shrugged. “I have it patched in from the control tower. But if I know, then Scratch’s forces know too.”

Vriska interrupted. “So they’re about to get their asses slaughtered. Fuck.”

“Yes.” Horuss nodded. “I believe that they are being allowed to advance into a trap.”

Vriska threw up her hands and paced down the tunnel, laughing under her breath. But Mituna thought he knew where this was going.

“You want us to use the attack as a distraction, don’t you?” He studied Horuss carefully as he asked the question – the blue blood’s face lit up.

“Yes! That is precisely the case! The attack will be happening within the next couple hours and you will use it as cover!” He smiled, apparently happy that someone understood where he was coming from.

“Great,” Terezi grumbled. “So we have a distraction to do… what? To run like barkbeasts with our tails between our legs?” She had a look of disgust on her face – Terezi wasn’t used to not being the one with the power.

“Oh no!” Horuss said. “There is a ship prepared for launch in one of the far pads.”

Mituna looked at Horuss – he wondered just how much they didn’t know about the blue blood. “Why is there a ship prepared for launch?”

Horuss looked decidedly uncomfortable at that question and shuffled his feet while looking directly at the ground. “I will admit that I suspected that my facility might one day be targeted by hostile forces. My original plan was to flee to one of the orbital stations.”

Terezi cackled. “Not such a great plan now, huh?”

“No,” Horuss said quietly. “I don’t believe it is at all. But the ship will take us to the Green Moon. Assuming that this Scratch person is sufficiently distracted to not immediately destroy the ship with a kinetic projectile.” He shrugged. “It is a risk. These tunnels can take us close to the launch site, but we will have to make a good amount of the journey above ground.”

It was a risk, but so was sitting in these tunnels and waiting for something to happen. The longer they sat around, the greater the chance that Scratch’s forces would find them. Given what they’d seen earlier, that likely meant they’d be shot. So the plan wasn’t perfect, but it was about the best they were going to get.

“Fine,” Terezi said – she seemed to have become their de facto leader, especially since Vriska had become oddly subdued since learning about Kanaya’s death. “We’ll go as far as we can underground and then wait until we hear the attack starting. Just for the record, I fucking hate this plan, Zahhak.”

* * *

Horuss took them as far as the tunnels would go – to a ladder leading to a small access hatch. According to the blue blood, the hatch would let them out only a short distance from his emergency ship’s launch pad. It was, however, in the middle of completely open ground with no cover. If they timed it wrong, the rotaries or soldiers would see them almost immediately and then they’d be dead.

The fact that the ship might have been guarded by the soldiers Scratch sent in was a secondary concern. The first problem was just getting to the ship. So they waited and hoped that the Alternian Army would begin its assault soon.

At first, Mituna thought it sounded a bit like thunder. For all the times he’d been involved in planetary strikes and bombardment, he’d never been on the ground side of one. In this experience, artillery was always a detached thing – something seen only in the abstract. But waiting here in the tunnels, it was becoming painfully real.

“They can’t use the Felt systems to target,” Mituna muttered. “Firing completely manually.”

A thought occurred.

“These tunnels won’t stand up to a hit, will they?”

Horuss actually laughed at that one. “Oh no! These are drainage tunnels, not shelters.”

They crouched together in the tunnel and listened to the rolling roar of the incoming artillery grow closer and closer. And then, as suddenly as it started, the not-thunder stopped. It was soon replaced with the distant cracks of machine gun fire and the louder, flatter blasts of cannon fire.

“Good a time as any,” Terezi said, grabbing hold of the ladder. “I’m ready for this bullshit to be over, personally.” She was up the ladder before anyone could say anything. As soon as the hatch opened at the top, the noise of the battle outside was immediately twice as loud. It still sounded distant, but not in a way that conveyed any degree of safety.

“Fuck. Fine!” Mituna got on the ladder next and climbed up. He could see Vriska and Porrim getting ready behind him. Horuss was standing next to the ladder, but he didn’t seem eager to wait to die in the tunnels either. They really didn’t have a choice at this point.

Out of the hatch, Mituna found himself in the middle of a large field of concrete, dotted with the equipment required to launch smaller spaceships. Most of them were gone now, having been replaced with the smaller shuttles. In the distance, he could see the heavy launch platforms – all empty at the moment save for one.

And the sound of the battle raged even louder. In the opposite direction of the heavy launch platform, he could see the flashes of gunfire in the dying embers of the day. The sound was loud enough to be heard clearly even at this distance – Mituna guessed they were at least a half mile away. Rotary aircraft circled, but stayed near where the bulk of the fighting was.

There was a flash on one of the rotaries and the left engine exploded. The Alternian Army wasn’t completely helpless.

“Okay, time to move!” Terezi yelled. The others – even Horuss – had all crawled out of the hatch now. “Where’s the ship?”

Horuss pointed to a small spaceship standing on a launch pad a few hundred yards away. Mituna recognized it as one of the older models of orbital transit ships. It was designed for short-range transfers between the surface of a planet and moons, orbital platforms, or larger ships in orbit. It was not, however, designed for combat. If anyone noticed them launching, they’d be an easy target.

It was definitely not a perfect plan.

Moving together, they began to run toward the ship – there was no sense in trying to sneak along. The bulk of the attention was being drawn by the fighting.

“Why isn’t he using kinetic munitions?” Porrim asked from next to Mituna. “What is he waiting for?” She sounded terrified – the anticipation of what _might_ be was worse than what was.

“It takes time to launch them,” Mituna replied. “They can’t really hit small moving targets reliably. Also, I think he wants this place to stay intact.” Whatever role Scratch had in mind for the Launch Center, the simple fact was that he could’ve reduced it to a smoldering crater in the ground as easily as he did with the First Fleet R&D command. There was a reason why he hadn’t.

You can _feel_ him up there, can’t you?

Even over the chaos of the battle raging behind them and the sheer adrenaline terror of their flight to the ship, he could.

Mituna ignored the feeling and bent forward, pushing himself ahead. Vriska and Terezi easily set the pace, followed by Porrim and Mituna. Horuss kept lagging behind – Mituna sensed that his posting hadn’t exactly prioritized daily runs – but he was keeping pace well enough. So far they hadn’t been shot, either on purpose or by accident. That was something, at least. Small favors.

The closer they got to it, the more the ship loomed overhead. What had once seemed to be a small vessel was turning out to be quite a bit larger than expected. Mituna wasn’t entirely surprised by this, of course – long sweeps in the Fleet had given him a sense of the massive scale of these things. But something about the imposing bulk of the ship gave him a sense of impending dread – a sense of cold inevitability.

The sense that he wasn’t coming back from this one.

* * *

They reached the ship without being shot, so that was a win in Mituna’s mind – it was really quite large. The battle for the Launch Center was still ongoing, but Mituna had the sinking feeling that the Alternian Army was going to lose. Scratch had more forces at his disposal than Mituna had even thought possible… probably including a great number of the disaffected members of the Alternian Army. The ones who’d become sick of what the Alternian Empire stood for and wanted a different way.

Even if that different way was basically the same, they didn’t care in that moment. They were angry and they wanted to do something to change things. The specifics… those didn’t matter.

There was an elevator that led to the entryway itself, and Horuss unlocked the door with a console. While they waited for the elevator to bring them up, Horuss turned to Mituna.

“I’ll need your help. This ship wasn’t designed to navigate without using the Felt which means…” he stopped talking and sighed heavily. “I need you to go into the Deep Felt and use that as a way to guide us in without alerting Scratch.”

Mituna stared at him without blinking. The words that Horuss had just said couldn’t have been real – he couldn’t seriously be suggesting this.

“That’s a horrible idea,” Mituna said bluntly. “Scratch is more tuned into the Felt than anyone that’s ever lived. You think I’m just going to be able to… slip past him?”

Horuss didn’t say anything, and Mituna was getting the sense that he wasn’t going to have much of a choice in the matter.

* * *

MC > 0K4Y, 1'M 1N51D3 - N0W WH47?   
H < 8=D < I am tying navigational protocols in now.   
MC > 1 D0N'7 L1K3 H0W 7H15 F33L5…

Even through the haze of the Felt, Mituna could feel the deep rumble of the ship’s engines firing up. Time moved differently when you were in the Deep Felt, but you still had some awareness of what was happening outside sometimes. The press of acceleration as the ship lifted off, pushing its way free of Alternia’s gravity.

And everything spread out before him in the black space – the paths that led everywhere. The ship itself lit up underneath him, and he could guide it by a mere thought.

But under all that, there was something indescribably ancient.

? < I can see you.   
MC > WH47 4R3 Y0U, R34LLY?   
? < I’m amazed, really.   
? < That it took you so long to see it.   
? < I would’ve thought you of all people would see first.   
MC > Y0U D1DN'7 4N5W3R MY QU35710N   
? < And if I don’t? What will you do?   
? < I know where you are. I know what you’re doing.   
? < I am choosing to allow this.   
MC > WHY?   
? < Because I’m not evil, despite what you think.   
? < I can’t begin to describe what I am.   
? < But I have developed a certain fondness for the Alternians.   
? < For now.

Something moved deep inside his mind – that was the best way he could put it but it still didn’t come close to describing what he was experiencing. The sudden and unavoidable realization that he’d been deeply, profoundly _wrong_ about what Scratch was. And artificial intelligence. An Alternian suspended in the depths of the Felt for all time.

? < You’re starting to understand what this is, aren’t you?   
MC > WH47 4R3 Y0U D01NG 70 M3?!   
? < I̗̟̝᷈ͩ͘’̣̯ͯ͗͢͞m̺̠͙͂᷾̿ n̢̙̲ͣ͂o̲̫̙︡̎̉t̖̙͇̍̉̄ d̘͙᷇́͢͠ọ̻̙͊̒̚į̰͇͑ͫ͝n̺͖̯︣͛̆g̳̼͕͂͂̄ a̙̱̞ͣ͌̉n͉᷿͌᷁͞ͅy͎᷂̘ͪͨ͒t̫̜᷂ͣ᷆̀h͇̗̬︢⃰̇ị̢̻́̄ͩǹ̤̞̘᷾ͪg͇᷿̓́͟͞ t̮͚̹᷄ͩ͡ơ͇͇̼᷾᷇ y᷿͖͙̆︢̈́ǫ̝̱̋ͦ⃰u̦̦̗͐︡︡.̛͚͖͆̿͢   
MC > 5͔̞̫ͨ̿͊7̰͚͉̇͋̿0̡̩͚ͩ̽̈́P̤̝͔̐̈́̎ 1̢̪̳͛̆̎7᷊̞̻ͪ̏̈́!̨̯̣᷁̈ͥ M͈̲̫͐᷅̇Ȳ͕͋ͧ͟͜ H̩᷊͕⃰͂͠3̦̬͈̃᷁ͨ4̝͔᷊︡͆͡D̫͚̲ͪ᷃͋ H̜̱̹̋͘͘U̝͔̺᷇᷉͝Ṛ̞͔̑̉̓7᷿̦︡̈́ͥ͟5̟̱̮ͫ︢!̨̡̮ͨ͊͠   
? < Ỵ̟᷾̃̍ͅe̢̠͎ͣ͑͐s̢͈ͥ͂᷅ͅ,̦̣̙́̌ t̨̘̜︣̍ͩȟ̲̘͚᷅͊à̮͇̲᷃͡t᷿̗᷊̒︠̕ ȉ͓̰̱ͩ͠ṣ̯͖᷃̒ͦ o̠̹︠︠̕͢n̢̦̼ͬͣ︡e̮͉͌̍͝ͅ p̯͔̪͐͆ͣo̹᷂͎͒͒̄s̠᷊͔ͦ͒ͮs̞͔̏︡ͨ͟i᷊̫ͨ︣̌͢b̤̻͖︣̍̄ḷ̘̑ͦ̆͜ę̣͈᷾͌͞ s̢̡̠ͪ̔͆i̗̠̖͆ͦͨd̡̛̮͉́̑e̗̙̿́͐͜ ē͎̝̩⃰̚f͖̣᷂̈᷅͗f̧̲͙᷁͐ͪe̡̱̞᷅̋͝c͚̳̰ͨ̄̂t͉͇᷿͌ͭ̒.̖̣̮̀̅͑   
? < There are, of course, others.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. So many times, he’d been on the verge of this very same chasm. He’d stared into it and wondered what lived within. It was an absurd thought – nothing could live inside the void of space. The very idea flew in the face of all scientific reason. But here was something that lived.

? < I will allow you to land on the Green Moon.   
? < You will be pleased to know that Latula is there.   
MC > L̰̻̜᷁︢̒3͖͓͒͆̃ͅ4̧̢᷾̏͞ͅV̡᷿͔̎ͣ͞3̞͕̗͐͞͞ H̡̰̹ͦ̇᷁3̯͌͐̃͜͟R͓᷿̹̅̔̅ 7̰̩̝᷆᷇ͨH̖͓᷾ͮ᷀͜3̧̱᷂̂̋ͮ F̧᷊̩̀ͩͧU̲̠͔͂̇̿C͕᷿̅̅ͥ͜K̰̳͓̇̓ͦ 0̨͉͙ͩ͛ͫU̧᷊ͮ͂͜͝7̢̮᷊︡̈́᷅ 0̢̟̄ͧ͘͜F̪̤̞͊̂ͭ 7̼᷊̤̀̓̈́Ḩ̠̲᷁̈́1̺͖̘︣᷃5͙̱̪ͥ᷅͆!̻᷊̟ͥ᷾ͫ   
? < I’m not doing anything to any of you.   
? < U̬̭̳ͦ̎̋l̫̠ͥͪ͐ͅt̨͖̦︢͂ȋ͔̜͇̈︡m̺̝͎̍̀᷁a͚̰᷂̽︣᷀t͉̲͑͑͢͠e̘͖ͫ͋ͨ͢l̫͔̝ͥ͠y̙͎̭⃰⃰͝,᷿̳̘̋̒᷄ y̖̟͙̋᷆᷃o̡̩̣̔ͮ͊ư̼̱̜ͣ͌ b̗̗͓͒ͬ͞r̖̤͒᷈̒͟ȍ᷂͎͈̈́͗u̡̬᷁̑͜͞g̡̠͊ͣ͢͡h̢̠̓̈᷈͢ţ̠͇ͤ̅̒ t͓̫ͮ̐͜͡h̘̻͔͒︡̏i͖̯̯᷀̓ͦṡ̢᷿̲᷇͡ o̗͙͉⃰̏͛n͙̖ͨͪͅ y̘̻̞⃰̓͞o̺͚ͥ̿͟ū̢̟̝̕r̬̠̣͑̄ͭṡ̭̣᷄͟e̱̗͖̒͝ļ̡̻︡⃰̕v̱̭̗ͬ᷃̿e̲̞̜ͦ͛̽s̟̙̉ͩ᷅ͅ.᷿̮̰ͬͭͤ

All sense of time was lost. Mituna didn’t know why, but he believed the thing that they all called Scratch. The thing that had existed before their universe was first formed. The thing that would exist long after its last atom stopped moving. He didn’t know why he knew these things, but they were certainties that came as naturally as he knew his own name.

His own name?

What was that anymore?

He knew he had a name once, but he couldn’t be sure of it. He knew that once he’d perceived things like linear time. There were others who had perceived him as well – seen him as a friend, or an enemy, or simply as a person who existed. That seemed like a long time ago. Or only a fraction of a second.

He found himself moving down – if the sensation could even be assigned a direction – into the depths. Into the Deep Felt.

Into the ultra-black.


	58. Unity

**12th Day of the 12th Bilunar Perigee** **  
** **The Green Moon**

Kurloz still wasn’t back when another troll – this one without any horns at all – showed up at the door. Latula had glanced up as she heard the door opening, hoping that it was Kurloz… no, if she was being honest she was hoping desperately that Damara was going to be brought back to join the rest of them.

The new troll motioned at her and spoke in a low, almost monotone voice. “Latula Pyrope? Please come with me.”

Latula glanced around the room – Meulin was on the other end of the room and she wasn’t looking very well – she’d been looking around nervously ever since Kurloz left. Meenah was sitting on the ground, still glowering. They were being split up, one at a time. Maybe that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but…

“Ms. Pyrope?” The troll’s voice hadn’t changed. “Please come with me.”

With another glance back at Meulin, Latula followed the troll into the corridor.

* * *

They passed through a series of intersection hallways and Latula tried her best to memorize the route. It was hard to place landmarks along the way when so much of the base looked the same, but she tried to track turns and any unusual features. The troll with no horns said nothing as he walked, simply walking forward at a constant pace.

After a few minutes, he stopped by a nondescript door.

“We are here, Ms. Pyrope.” That voice was so odd – like he wasn’t completely aware of what he was saying. “You will wait in this room until someone comes for you.”

He pulled open the door and stepped to the side.

Inside, sitting on a hospital bed, Latula could see Damara Megido. Latula couldn’t help herself – she yelled and ran inside the room. Before she even thought about why Damara was in a hospital bed, she’d wrapped her up in a hug, pushing up against the bed and sobbing. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been worried – how much it meant to see Damara sitting there alive.

“Oh shit,” Latula sobbed. She pressed her nose up against Damara’s neck and kept crying. Damara squeezed her back and leaned in, but her breathing was unsteady.

“Oh no!” Latula jumped back. “You’re hurt! Oh shit!”

Damara winced. “Kind of…” Her expression was hard to place. “I’m not dying anymore, I guess.”

All at once, the emotions hit her and Latula was almost on her knees. Even more than being able to see her again. Emotions unhinged and she couldn’t stop crying long enough to form a coherent sentence. Damara leaned over and drew her back in.

“It’s okay.” Her voice was soft. Latula held her again, this time more careful not to squeeze too hard. “I don’t understand why but… Scratch had them fix me up.”

Latula’s hands went to the loose-fitting shirt that Damara was wearing. She lifted it slightly and saw the sutured traces where she’d been stitched up.

“You mean you’re not using the sythedrine?” Latula’s voice shook.

Damara shook her head. “Nope. I’m sore but… the pain’s different than before. Doesn’t feel like my insides are tearing themselves out anymore.” She sighed. “Thing is… I don’t get why he’s doing any of this.”

“The troll with the short horns? He’s Scratch?” Latula wasn’t sure what to think – the one that came to get Kurloz had seemed a lot more lucid than the shuffling figure who’d brought her here. None of it had been what Latula had imagined – she’d pictured a lot more glowing tubes with brains floating inside them. Too many bad movies.

“No, I don’t think so. I thought that maybe he was – he called himself Kankri and said some weird shit about being one of many or something but… Aradia came here and she said some weird shit. I think that Scratch is somewhere else – controlling these people somehow.”

Latula put a finger to her lips – _be quiet_ – but Damara shrugged. “I don’t think it matters if he knows that we know. Honestly he doesn’t seem to care one way or the other. I don’t know what he is, exactly, but this whole thing has moved completely beyond us.”

“How’s he getting so many people to follow him?” Latula leaned up against the bed, letting her hands trace along the incisions, careful not to brush too hard into the still-healing skin.

Damara’s voice came back quiet – “You already know the answer to that.”

She did. Poverty. Endless war. Stuck in your class from the day you were hatched until when they finally got shoveled into a state-funded incinerator and given a tiny marker in some over-crowded memorial center. The entire system was built from the top-down to support the wealthiest and most powerful. Of course people were sick of it. And if Scratch promised some of them revolution and others a seat at the table when it was all said and done…

It all made sense. The environment had been there for dozens of sweeps – between the inequality on Alternia and the unrest on the colony worlds. The Alternian Empire was sowing the seeds of its own destruction.

“Fuck.” Latula didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah.”

“What are we supposed to do?” she asked. “What’s he going to do? Just hold us up here forever? Let us go? What’re we even supposed to do down there? I’m so fucking…”

Latula took a deep breath – what was it she felt?

She knew the answer to that too. “I’m so fucking tired of all of this. I wanted… I wanted to be able to get away from everything and be with you. Is that so much to ask?”

Damara laughed wryly. “I think that people who ask that question usually want simple things that they never get to have.”

It hurt to hear it, because it was something she’d been running from for a long time – in a lot of ways. All the times she avoided those uncomfortable conversations about her relationships with her partners. All the times she avoided those uncomfortable conversations about what she’d done while she was in the Legiscorpus. It was so much easier to just glide along without thinking about it – to act on instinct and fall away into whatever feeling the moment brought.

And then to come back up empty, not knowing what to do next.

She was crying again.

“Why’d we even do it?” She sobbed into Damara’s chest, burying her head down. She didn’t want to be here anymore – didn’t want to be anywhere. She wanted to be someone else – someone who’d never made the kinds of decisions that she made. Someone good. “Why’d we do all those bad things?”

Whether it hurt her to do it or not, Damara wrapped her arms around Latula and hugged her in tightly. And she let herself fall away into that, because at least it wasn’t going to take her soul.

“We can’t go back… but maybe we can keep going forward.”

That was it – that was all that Damara said, and then she just held Latula and let her cry. It was impossible… they were far above Alternia while a war raged below them. They were disconnected – and why wouldn’t they be? There was nothing special about any of them that put them on some kind of narrative pedestal. They were chosen by the pure virtue of bad luck – by being the right people in the wrong place and time. Scratch was like any other opportunistic monster – he saw people he could use and he did it without a second’s thought.

“I don’t know what to do,” Latula murmured. Her breath came back hot off Damara’s shoulder.

“I don’t either.” It wasn’t a comforting reply, but it was an honest one.

* * *

The door opened again, but it wasn’t the same dull troll with no horns. Instead, it was the scraggly-haired one who’d come to get Kurloz before.

“I am Kankri Vantas, the first of–” The troll shook his head and his expression changed. “My _god_ that is getting tiring. Such a balance to strike, between free will, personality, and control.”

Latula was confused, but Damara’s face showed a kind of recognition. She stared at the troll. “She was right. You’re not… you.”

The troll – Kankri? – shrugged. “Think whatever you want. It makes no difference to me. I can understand your lack of eloquence, in any case. There’s so much going on right now.”

“What do you _want_ from us?!” Latula’s face burned with tears again. “Why are we here?”

The troll – it was so hard to think of him as anything but Scratch – turned to look at her. “My dear, surely you’ve sensed my general… fondness for your kind. I am not, contrary to what you might believe, malevolent. All of this –” he gestured down with a sweep of his hand – “is merely necessary as a prelude. The end goal isn’t endless war, but an end to war.” He smiled.

Even as he was saying it, Latula knew it was the biggest load of hoofbeast shit she could imagine. If his control was so absolute and his intentions so noble, why not shut everything down? Why not grind the Alternian war machine to a halt and show the people a way forward where a tiny fraction of the wealthy didn’t control everyone else using a system of leverage and control?

Because he was full of shit. Scratch – and that was the only thing to call him, despite whatever this current shell might try to claim – was only interested in ending war in the sense that any opposition to him was destroyed.

The troll cocked his head and seemed to be looking at something that they couldn’t see. “Oh, how delightful. My dears, you must excuse me. I have a matter I must attend to. Please feel free to engage in whatever emotional or… physical affections as you see fit while I am gone.”

As soon as he’d left the room and the door closed, Latula wrapped her arms around Damara again and leaned up against the bed. The tears were all back – the heavy sobs breaking through the emotional armor she’d tried so hard to build up. For a long time, Latula stayed like that, and Damara held her – and she cried.

“I love you.” She hadn’t meant to say it – it just kind of… came out. But it was true, so what was the sense in not saying it again?

Damara brought Latula in closer and tucked her cheek up against her face. “I love you too.”

“We’ll make it out of this, right?” She had no idea why she was asking this like a wiggler – she just felt so alone and scared.

“Yeah, we’ll make it out.”

It wasn’t an honest reply, but it was a comforting one.


	59. A Reunion of Sorts

The weird troll hadn’t brought Kurloz back, and even when – if? – he came back, Meenah wasn’t about to talk to him after what had happened before. He could blame her all he wanted – could try to lay this all at her feet – but at the end of the day it didn’t matter. She wasn’t the one to blame for this.

Right?

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

Aranea was dead and they were all being held captive by the sick bastard that was ultimately responsible. Not much that she could do about that. The idea that they were going to fly up to the Green Moon and somehow fix everything was ridiculous to begin with. All she’d done was to lead them all into a situation where they were, at best, prisoners.

_I_ led them?

There was a tap on her shoulder and Meenah looked up to see Meulin looking down at her.

“What?” She asked it before even thinking and saw Meulin shrug. “Oh… sorry.”

Meulin gestured at the ground next to her and shrugged her shoulders. Sliding over, Meenah patted the ground – Meulin plopped down next to her and stretched back, her joints popping lightly.

Meulin tried a few gestures with her hands, but Meenah only shook her head. She never had any reason to learn Alternian Sign Language before. Meulin drew in a sharp breath and leaned forward, putting her finger to the ground and tracing out letters, one-by-one.

I   
C A N   
W R I T E

Meenah nodded and gave her a quick thumbs-up.

W O R R Y   
A B O U T   
K U R L O Z

Meenah nodded again, shrugged, and gestured around. She had no idea where he was or what was happening.

H E   
I S   
W A T C H I N G

Shrug. Meenah waved her hands around. Of course – he had surveillance. But Meulin shook her head, and something in her eyes was like she wasn’t really looking at Meenah anymore.

N O   
  
A L W A Y S   
W A T C H I N G   
  
N O T   
W I T H   
C A M E R A S   
  
W I T H   
M I N D

A shiver ran up Meenah’s back – what did that _mean?!_ One look at her face was enough to tell Meenah that this was something more than just what she’d seen Scratch do so far. This went deeper than that – it was an existential fear of what Scratch _was._

She didn’t have the language to communicate what she was feeling with Meulin – gestures and writing on the ground wouldn’t work for that. So Meenah put her arms around the other woman’s shoulders and hugged her. Meulin sighed and closed her eyes, leaning against Meenah’s shoulder.

They sat like that until the door finally opened again, and Kurloz was standing there in front of Kankri, the troll with the stubby horns.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he snarled down at Meenah. “You’re poison, Peixes.”

“Ms. Peixes, I humbly request the pleasure of your company for a moment.”

“I’d rather not,” she practically spat the words out.

“Do not misunderstand me, dearest – this is not optional.”

* * *

Kankri led her down a series of halls, talking as he went. “You care for them, don’t you? As much as you cared for dear, sweet Aranea.”

He paused and an evil smile crept onto his face – but the effect was that of someone tugging up the corners of a mask. “Well, maybe not like Aranea, but still… they matter to you. Not the Authority, of course – you’d as soon gut Vriska as look at her.”

They turned and were walking straight down a long corridor – the signage on the walls said that they were moving toward a docking bay.

“I’m not a buffoon, contrary to what you all seem to believe. And while I am stretched quite thin at the moment, I know you’ve all been speaking about me. Speculating. Spreading terrible, terrible rumors.” He sighed. “It is true, of course, that I merely inhabit this body on a temporary basis. And many others as well. The specifics are quite fascinating and also… quite unimportant.”

“What the fuck are you, then?” Meenah growled. “Why are we even here?”

Kankri clicked his tongue – Scratch made Kankri’s body click its tongue. “You’re all frightfully boring. The same questions. _Why are we here?_ ” His voice rose to a mocking lilt. “Pathetic. You’re all trapped inside the same conscious framework. Even being inside of this… thing…” The body’s hand gestured at itself and Scratch made a noise of disgust.

“Even here, I feel myself falling away. I liked it better when I could focus on the world you call the Felt. Dear God, how you all misunderstand it.”

The corridor branched out and they took the far path to the left, moving downhill slightly.

“Where are we going?” Meenah found herself completely disoriented.

“Quite simple, dearest. I’m going to lock you in one of the connecting airlocks and then go check on some of my other guests. You will wait there because some friends of yours are on their way. When you’re all here, you will sit quietly together and wait for my work down on Alternia to be done.”

Meenah sneered. “Have you considered what’s gonna happen when the fucking Empress comes back? She’s got all of the Eighth Fleet with her and she might be a mean bitch to all of us, but she’s gonna be even worse to you.”

Kankri’s body stopped walking and Scratch issued a high laugh. “You’re so wonderfully dense.” They had stopped by one of the airlocks that connected one section of the corridor to the next. Scratch opened the door and motioned for Meenah to get inside. “Oh, don’t worry – I’m not going to kill you, I just don’t trust you to walk around.”

Meenah stepped into the airlock – she didn’t really have a choice. Before he closed the door, she turned back. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you plan for when the Empress returns?”

“My girl, you’re simply too much. Haven’t you realized it by now? The Deep Felt – the founding technology that all of Alternian space travel is built on right now – it’s where I live. I don’t need to plan for the Empress’ eventual return, because she’s never going to find her way back.”

It dawned on Meenah what he was saying, and her face must have betrayed it because he laughed.

He laughed, and there was no trace of Alternian in it at all.


	60. Violence of Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter depicts a major character death.

How are we supposed to stop this, sister? What are we supposed to do? The frustration was right there on his face, and Meulin wished she could do more to help. He showed me a room full of motherfucking bodies he can just pop into.

She frowned. I don’t know… I’m trying to process all this. She wished she had more to go on than these vague feelings.

But it wasn’t just vague feelings. She’d been there – she’d reached out and touched that thing herself. Aradia had too – had confirmed as much. It wasn’t just some abstract concept, but something painfully _real._

I don’t think they ever intended to pull Scratch in like this. I think they wanted to do what Aradia said – to make some kind of living computer. She stopped and shook her head, still frowning. I think that they even believed they’d succeeded, at least for a while.

I wonder if he was here even before they realized it. When they were first building this place and tapping into the Deep Felt. I bet he was. Even if he hadn’t adopted a voice and name yet… you can feel what he IS out there.

What does it all mean, sister?

She looked down, thinking. What _did_ it all mean? I don’t know… let me think on it for a bit.

He shrugged and put his arms around her shoulders. She leaned on him and closed her eyes, letting herself drift.

* * *

An infinite space exists between the stars. Subdivided again and again until the space between the individual atoms is all that remains. Inside of that space exists the limitless potential of the unknowable. The space where semantic description falls apart and all that’s left is the vast, unavoidable gulf of meaning between what your mind can comprehend and what _is._   
  
Meulin had been there, once. S̢̬͓͎͕͈̫͛h̿̇͛ͨ̎͏̼͔͔͍̬̙ͅe̫͆̀͊ͮ ̻̰̟̣̻̖̕c͇̩̫̦̪͍̜͗on͎̖͂ͥ͘t҉̩i̘̲͚̖͎͜nͤ̅҉̜̬u̮͕͔͑̋ͪ͒̍͑̐e͐ͧ̀̿̌ͥͨḋ̡̩̳̭͕̼̼ͦ͒̃ ͍̫̹̺̘̪̺̉ͧͩͣͪt͍̹̻͚̭̝̜̒͂ͫ̓͊ô̊͋͐̎̚ ͍͒e͔̗͚̣̩̯ͅx̮͉̊͒̈́ͫ̂ͫͮĩ̚s̗̥̜̮ͧ̅͐͡t̙ͧ̽̈̃ͬ̂͛   
  
ȋ̼̖̬ͤ̈́̌͒̎̊n̛̖̮̰̙͍̯̠ͤ̈ͣs̡̝̘̞͓̹͈͙ͮ͊ỉ͓̫̩̠̯̪d̽̾ͬͪ͠ȅͣͨ͡ ̆̉͡ő̜͍̞̦͐͆́͑f̴̮̲̍̒̔ͨͮ͂ͥ ̶ͯ́ͯ͗t̶̥̙̔͒h̢̦̞̫͚ͤ̂̑ͣ̾ẹ̶̫̱ͦͧͪ͐ ̙̘̮̎ͦͥͪ̑̂͞ṣ͉͓͚ͨͩ̀̈́̆̓ͅp̈ͨa̲̣͈̪̳̱̻͊ͬ̇̚c͇̰̠̜͎ͦ̿ͪ͟ĕ͗̊͆̿͏̞̺s̡̤͙͔̲̓͋̀ ̷̖̝̒̈́ͯ͒̔ḷ̦͍͖͔͓͍͜e͖̘͊͊͌̊͌ͬf̄̉̅͌̌t̡͉͗ͧͧͫ̉͊   
  
between e̝͈v̯̦̯̰̱̼͍e͕r̭̰̞̟̖̲͎y̲̞̰̗͉͓t͇̳̲͉̝h̝̖̙͚̟i̢̞͍͕ng͍̹̪̳̦͍̕

* * *

Her eyes snapped open. Had she been dreaming? Having a flashback? It felt like she was lost in the memory of something that she’d never experienced. Or _had_ experienced, but in a way that left a vague impression that she couldn’t quite pin down. Kurloz was staring at her.

You feel it, don’t you?

She felt a shiver run down her spine and nodded. Everywhere. All around us. In my fucking head!

He’s not god, sister Meulin. None of us are.

She squinted at Kurloz – what sense did that make? Who but a god could do these things? Could exist in those spaces that didn’t exist? Kurloz leaned in and signed close to her – she bent to see.

I was brought up to trust the Mirthful Messiahs – to believe in a power beyond myself. But I realized… after all this happened… those things are bullshit.

Meulin shook her head. Don’t say that, if it’s important to you– But he held up a hand – linked their fingers together and brought Meulin’s hand down gently, smiling.

It’s okay he signed with his free hand, squeezing her fingers lightly. I was so angry at first, but I see now… it d̖͚͙̘̜͒̐͡o̖͙̻̯̔e̟̪̼͒s̢̹͕͓̺̈́̽̏ͣn̊̈͐ͭ’̯͈̼̼͛̊̑̎̋͝t̺̎ͦ̌ͫ ̖̣̼̉̇̅̈́̊m̻̠̳̪̗̙̺͂ͫ̋a͋͋ͤ͆ͥ͡ţ̱̙̦ͧ̈́ͭ͊t̰̬̝̻̤̰̬eͤͪ͏̭̥r̘͖̘̳ͩ̈͂͑̎.

She felt the breath catch in her chest. What?! What did you just say?! He squeezed her hand again.

I said it doesn’t matter. Whether there are Messiahs beyond the Veil or not – it doesn’t matter to me, right now. I have you and Mituna – my… I don’t know the word for it.

She nodded. Like matesprits, bu̴t̴ not͢. Whatever the word for that was. I̛t͢ d̨i̡͜dn̛͠’̡͞t̷͞ ̴͡m̢a̵̛͢t̷͟ţ̨ę͜͞r͏, because she knew how they all felt. No, I get it. Kurloz… I’m glad… I don’t want to see you fall down the s̲a͏̹͇͓͇͓͉m̯̙̬̳̯͖̭͜ȩ̟̺̭̲ ̴̩̘͚̣̜̣̰p͓̬ḷ̴̠͕͕a҉͔̮͉̠̤c̘̗̼̺͇̠e̪̠ ͎͇͢s̫̹̖̳̲̦̭o m̞̼̰͖̹̘̞a͎̝̥͎̠̰̗n̻̟͠y ̬̭̗̼̤͝o̝͔̳f̷̫̘͍͍̗̦̦ ͏̣͈̣u̦͙̹͍̤̳̙s͏ ̗͓͚̠h͇̼̙̳̻̘͔a҉̮̜͎v̩e͕̫͔̺̪̥̟. Ȉ̸̧̨̱̯͍̞̪̜͇̭́ͥͥ͛ͪͦ̿̄̎̒̍ͮ̄̆̉ͯ̒̊ ̨̄ͧ͛̌̂̿̿̈͌ͦ͝͏̗̫̗̜͈̝̣͚̥͉͍͍̭̣̦̞ļ́ͨ͆͌̂ͦ̒̊̾́ͫ̍̎̐̓̍͏͚̞̝͕̝̹̳̫͍̻ọ̩̻̈̇̌̉ͨ͠͝v̡͔͇̫͍̩̖̘͊̑͊͆ͬ̚͢͠e͖̮̹͍̘ͭ͆̃ͮ̃ͫ̔͐̆̌͜ ̻̤̠̥͓̗̻̱͍̃͗͗ͯ̄̕͟y̴̪̬͉̱̤̣͉͉̺̟͇̩͓͙̩̫̼̼ͯ̃̌̌͟͡͡ǫ̴̧̱̼̤̬̣̯͓̝͙̟̖̰͚͕͔͎̟͍̇ͩ̋ͭ͗̂ͩ̒͋ͮͭ̃ͨ͢ͅù̩̙̩̣̻͇̫̝ͩ́̐ͯ͡ ̨̳̬̟̯͔̃̊̿ͩͬ̌ͯ̇͗̋ͫ̎̿ͦ̐̚͘͢͢t̸̛̘̯̤̘̬͎̱̥͕̬͇̻͚̳̹̳̑ͥ̇͂ͮ̂ͪ̽̉͒̂͐͆ͩ́ͯ̾̀͠o̴̝͇̯̰̤͓̤̣͎̝̼̹̟̬͉̓ͩ̍ͧ̒̇̈̊͋o̶̓̏́͊̑̈́̒̏͏̵̶̲̘̩̖̮͎̣͉̬̘̱̤̖̟̪̰͍̮͡ͅ – you’re important to me and I don’t want to see this happen to either one of you.

Kurloz shook his head. Sister, what did you just say? I didn’t… I didn’t hear you.

Her head felt heavy – that didn’t make sense.

I love you and Mituna. You both deserve to come out of this.

You too, kittybitch! H͗ͩ̓ͨ͝e ͯ̄͗̆̄͐ͬ͝s͌̋mͮ̈́i̛͑ͩ̂͐͐̏l͘ed̨̐ͥ̈ͩ͌̓ ̴̿̆͊͂͂̍̏a̕t͛͗̓̑ͧ̂ͨ ̵̌ͤ̎̍heͫ͌̓ͩͩ̿҉ŗ̃.ͤ̒̒̄͂͐ 

* * *

Do you believe that your life has inherent meaning? That you are anything beyond a simple speck̵ of҉ du͡st ͞in ͜a̸ ̵c͞o̵s͝m҉o̡s so v͟a̢s҉t̴ ͜anḑ ̢un̨feeling that you, statistically speaking, simply do not exist?   
  
Ḓ͚͎̻̜̲̔͆͂ͩͅo̗̤͚̦͉̹͈ ̵̮͇̳ͩ̌͐͐̚y̥̩͇͚̮̠̗͛͐͑̒͡ṏ́u̳̼̠͎̜͍̖͗ ̣̯̳̘̖̰̃̆ͅh̗̒̂ͨ̉ͬ͆ͩǫ̗͕͎̖̝͖ͫ̂ͩ̏n͘e̷͍̘͚̻̙͆̾ͧ͗s̟̲̯͙̉̈ͪ̂͋̏͢t̿͋ͪ͏͍͚̣̗̘͔̻lͤy̤̰͕͍̫͆̐͋ͣ b̻͙̗ͥẻ̋̅͊͑͠lͧ̀ͭi̧e̳̙̘̒̇ͦ̍v̜̗͋ͥe̢̥̗̣͓ͦ ̖̺͔̦t͙͈̜̠́h̭͕̦̖͗̾ͬ̆̿͜ã̓ͣt̬͕̪̱̂͗?̘͎͈̫̒̀   
  
I can’t imagine why.   
  
Meulin spent those endless days in the hospital wondering about so many things. Why she was chosen to survive when the others weren’t. Why any of it mattered. What her place in the Empire was when she’d seen and been a part of the worse of all of it.

What it meant… ẗ̝̝̠̠̹̘́̊̌ͯ̿̎̑h̯̉͛ͤë̫̺̥̮͍͕̮́̈́ ̶̙̜͕̭̥̺̅̀͆̽ͭ̋͊v̍͒̒ͬ̈õ̱̗̞͎͓̜ͮ̆ͮͨị̥͓̪ͧͮ̍ͬ̐ͦ̚ć̜̥̱͆ͭ͊̈̆̐e̫͂ͪ͠ ̰̟̩̤̼̭̳̋̈́ͦ̊t̿ͩͬ҉͖̫̟̣͔h̠̹̻͂ͪͪä҉ṯ̆̽̏̊̔̓ ̩ͥ͜s͔̪͖̜̜p̟̪̼̻͈͎͇͊͆ͫ͗o̟̞̥͙̦̱͙̿͠kͨ̑̀ͯ̐ͥe̬̝̻͕̘̙͒͊͒͠ ̳̮̟̹̪̺̻̅̆͆̐t͇ͣ̉̒o̲͚̺̩͚̎ͨ ̴̬̖̟̞̐̅h̭̗̠̫͕̦̓̊̏́̈̆̄e̸̩̗̪͉̞͉͔ͤ̑ͥͪr̃͛͏̞͓͓̯̝ͅ ͈͍̝̗̜̍̂̓̈f̙͙͈̺͍̖̖ṟ̦̥̞͎̞̲ͥ̏͊͞o̭̺̩̯ͅm̈́͒ͭ̾̿̋͋ ̧͙̠̝̊̇̀̏̍ͥ̚d͉͈̪̻̭͇͋̌̉͋ẻ͂ͬ͊̂̆͠e̷͍̗͗̽͆͑̅p̙ͯ̾ͭ̈͞ ̭͉̳̭̿̽i͙̪͓͔̻̮͇ͣ͌̉̂͌̋n̤̖̱̲͎̗͗̏ͭ͆s̮͙͚͖̲̳̭̆ͧ̇i̷̘ͮ̿ͦ̔ͥ͑͆d̥͔̐̿̉͊̾ͥë̵̠̯͇̬̙̞́ͯ̾͌͌ͣ̎.͉̖͛ͦ

* * *

Kittybitch! W̻͙̖͕̙͕ͥ̐̽̚̚a̝̖̼͙͛͟k͖̟͓̣͚ͦ̄̓̍̌͊̒͜e̡͖̯͚̙̦̱̫͐̽͑͛ ̝ù̱̜͕͌̇͛ͯ͌͆p̄ͮ!̢̰̼̯̼̀͋ Kurloz was shaking her and she had no idea how long it had been. She’d fallen asleep? She had no idea. 

Someone’s at the door! She looked up and saw the door sliding open to reveal the stubby-horned troll standing there, smiling at her. 

That’s Kankri. Kurloz glared. The puppet.

N͏ơt ͏͜s̶m̕͜͠i̶l̶̸i͜n̛g̡ ̷a͞t ̶the͜͢m.̧͝

S͓̙̗͈̭͉ͅm͚i̠͉̗͓̫̜͜l͍̩̜̯i̶͎͍̭n̗͇̬g̨̮͓̹͈̪͖̼ ̙ͅa̲͚̮t̡̩̣̳ͅ ͔̤̬hę̩̹͙͔r̳̞̘̮̭̤.͉̟̥̩̰̲

He moved his hands, and she understood. Dear, sweet Meulin. This sign language you use is adorable. It took a bit to learn it. Actually quite clever, talking about me behind my back.

S͕̳̓ͮ̆̆̍͊ͧm̘͙̥̗̓ͦͫ̈̽͑ͮͅȉ̻ͩ̓l̩̙͖̜̬ͣ̄i̻̺̥͒ͯͨn͚͖̯̫͌̾g͂ ͚̰̝̙̦̎͆̎͂́̚͢ͅa͔̭̯̱̹̦͌͐͡t̫̣̮̪͉̬͚̋ͪ̋͝ ͕̦ͩ̽̎h͈͍͈̉͊̄͌̎e̼͚ͧͫr̶̼̫̠̠̬͕̉̎̄̈ͅ.̣̲̦ͥ͗̒͛͜

But it doesn’t matter now. Some friends of yours have arrived. I believe you will be particularly delighted to hear that your friend Mituna has arrived. He laughed silently. “Hear” – look at me being so insensitive!

S̵͕̺̞̠̮̘̰̈͐̋̇m̶̨̪̻̖̙̣̟̝͗͗ͨ̏̾̐̎i̶̮͇̬͑̃ͥ̅ͅl͍̳̯͖̞͉͙̠̺̆͞i̝̞̟͍̋͌̐͊͒ͭ̃̀̚n̙͙̟̥͚̎̒ͪͣ̓̃̕g̥͈̼̰͙̹͗͌ͭ̀̓ ̴̨͇ͣ̌ͤͅa̝̜̘ͨ͌ͫ̅͆ͦt̡̰͉̰͖̮̜ͦ̃ͬ͊̃̓͟ ̴͉̞̗͈̺̐ͥ̚h̷̴̪͎͓̗͚̹̭̣ͮͣ̆ͪͬ̆̓̾͞ë͍̳̮́͛ͤ͋ͥͤ̎̚͡r̵̪̘̰̮̍̊͑͌̑͞.̨̨̜̼͉̳͕̆̓̿ͤ̈͗ͥͣ

She looked around the room – Terezi and Vriska had stood up and were backed up against the wall. Kurloz was next to her, hand on her shoulder. Supporting. Stable. Calming.

Meulin felt the scream in her throat – silent to no one but herself. She launched herself forward, sweeps of combat training and conditioning coming back in a heartbeat. Dozens of lives taken. Hundreds, even, especially if you counted those that died as a result of her actions. She was across the room in the blink of an eye and she was in front of Kankri. The troll looked surprised.

Maybe it was Scratch, or maybe the shell still had enough of itself left to feel some kind of emotion. It didn’t matter.

Meulin took Kankri’s head and slammed it with everything she had against the corner of the doorframe. There was no sound in her world, but Meulin had heard enough of it to know what it would’ve sounded like. The wet, fresh sound of a melon being cracked open. The way that the bright red blood erupted from the broken surface of the troll’s skull.

He fell down

O̴͍͍͈͎̦̟̳̰̎̏͋n̶̰͎͎̥͈̝͚ͣ̊̾ͤ͐͗͊t̴̝͈̰̎̂̄̿̂̌ͯͫͥơ̫̜̹̱ͭ̅̊̉ͧͥ͝

Ţ͍̮̣̱͙̭͐̅̀̂ͭͣͫh͂̓̈̎͛̍̋͊̓̕͏̻̫̟̜̞ē̪͎̝͇̯ͮ

G̼̫̲̣͓̑ͩ͑͑̈́̉̃͘̕r̢ͭ̍̒̈́̉ͩ̂ͫ͊̏́̀̾̀ͪ̔̚͏̧͍̹̣̘̼̱͇͉̗̝̣̱͘͘ͅͅŏ̡̙̹̰̼͇̞̗̦̠̝͈̳̳͉̘̺̲̬̤ͩ̐ͤ̌̐ͫͤ̆͊̅̔̊̔û̴̠͉̗̤͖̭̗͉̲̪̻̟͓͓ͫ̅̂̓̓̈́ͮ̎͒ͦͭ͘͞ͅn̸̩̲͔͎͖̩̦̼̺͍̮͕̂̇̐̒͜͜͡͝d̨̡͔̘͚͉̜̞̞̞̞̙͕̰͈̗̼̼͙͇͑ͥ̉̉͛ͮͪͥ̄́̏ͮ̈͌͘͜

  
Meulin ran forward, out of the room, not heeding what the others were doing behind her. If Mituna was here, she was going to find him. She needed to warn him – to warn all of them – to let them know w̼͚̦h̝̩̲̥͞a͎̙͘͘t̶̜͜ ̴̱̱̠S͙̩͉̪̖̙̠̱͟c̨̬͜r͓̯͓̙̠͔͜a̸̤̝͔̻̪̰̼̻ͅt̺̪͈͖͡c̷̗̗̗̭͡h̸̖̦̞͉̫̯͡ ̴̶̭̮̠̫̭͢w͓̬̳̥͇̬̩̘͠͡ͅa̷̝̹̬̗̺̕͞s̼̻͔̪̯̲͡ ̵̨̛̣͇̳̲a̵̡̪͇̪͖ͅn̮͉̗̗̻͜d̢̡̯͉̯͍͓̮̲̝ ̡͔̮̯͈̗͎͎̼͞w̧̛͕̭̯̩h͕͖̦̝̝̩̣a̗̤̮̕t̻̰̠̠̞̝̼̼̺ ͉̝̥̜̟͞ḩ̼̫̞͎͉ͅͅe͓͔̲͇̬̘ ̛̘͉̩̼̙̻̳̣͡w̧̛̖̩͎̞͚̟̞ͅa̵̜̲s̛͓͉͕͚̯͚̫̮͡ ̵͇̲̭d̷̢̻̲͙o͙̭̟̟i̙n̖̭̲̜̣g͈̥̞͖ͅ

* * *

Do you really believe it’s that simple? That you just get to walk out of here? That there won’t be c҉̦̲̝̤̤o̯͖̰̥̖͔͘n̻̦̩̺̭͎s̡ẹ̩̟̫̼̣q̱̲͜u̲̼͕̯̲̖̤e͚̭̲͟n̞̹̪͖c̠̭̤̪͔ẹ̼̰̩̕s̰ ̜͉͎ͅf̬̲̟̗̖̲o͇̖̞̰̬̝̗r͍͚͎ ̱̙̲y͙o̸̲̣u̟͇͍͜r̴ ̰̻̖ac͔̰̗͍͙͓̣͘t͉͈͇i̤͎ǫ̰̤̗̹n̘͍͈̱͓̹̳s̥̲̜̩̯͕? My dear, sweet girl… there are _always_ c̟͕͍o͔̲̜̲̙ͅn̼̳̬̦͚̱s͍̯̬̮̻͎̟e҉͍̤q̫͕͖͘u͉e͚̝̩ṉ̰̹̳̼̖͍͡c̛̘̫͖e̷̗̭̣s ͈f͍͈͎o̥̤̝͟r̯͍ ͇̥͟y̛͖̲̜o̷̳ṵ̦r̸ ̙ac͇̫t̞͈̜̜͙̲̯ị̺̼o̧͍̯̲n̸s̸̥̱̰̳̫̳.̸̲   
  
I’ve seen you for so very long. Watched you. Watched so many of you. Those of you who have come close to me – your new friend, Aradia. How she thinks she knows what I am, but barely comprehends the nature of my existence.   
  
S͜o͋ͩ̇͋̅ ̦̟̐̄̔̿͠m̺͚̦̻̯͂̈̎͊̇͢a͕͍͈̼͔̣̪ͤͫ̐ͬͬ̀̅ṉ̻̣̯̱͍ͥ̀͋͊y͍̬̮͉̓̈̅ ͈̱̦̌ͭ̊ͧt̍̂̀̌ͤͬ͝r̯͉͉͔̮̖̣i̢͖̬ͧͤ̍ͥe̝̟̲̫̼͔ͭͅd̪̹͞ ̡̖̰t̩̩̮͒ͅo̫̹̫͐ͣ̈͘ ̠̺͎̜͗̈ͣͬ͂̎͑u̦̥̺͔͛ͨ͋̂n͗̒͞ḍ̻ͭ̊̏̀̾e͉̽ͭ̅ͪͥͩ̚͟r͇̘̰̺͉̼̆ͅs͖̣̭̪̹͞ͅt̝͔̥̣͊̔͊̿̊ą͚̤̣̗̻̮̅̊ͭ͆͊͊̃ņ̈̚d̼͙̦̞̥͔̫.̴̹̹̦ͦ   
  
You.   
  
Aradia.   
  
Mituna.   
  
Kanaya.   
  
R͏̝͚͚o̧̠̣̖s̷͎̟̠̥e.̫͔   
  
Oh, I’m sorry – that wouldn’t mean anything to you. Óͯ̋̏͐͠t̐ͮ̅h͝e̷ͪ̊ͤͯͥ̃̚rͪ̐ͬ̽ͫ͑ ͮ͊̎̚w̽ͧͫ̑ͥ̓o̚r̀ͧ̂̄͑lͥͪ̀̑̊̊dͫͫͭ̈ͮͩs̉ͫ ̴tͣ͊͢h̑ͤ͊̏̌ͨ͝a̓̄ͮ̋̆̒̃n̅͛͒ͤͭ̚ ̅ͯt̔͂̀͂̈́̋̅͡h̓͑̚e̴̓ṡ̑ͥ̃͒̀͂eͯ ̷ͤͥ͑a͗̄͐͊͋͐͟n̿͋͌̍҉d̡ͦ̏̀͑ͫ ͮ̂̒̈́̋́a̔̉̓l̀̈́̀͌ͤͬ̈͡l̋҉ ̕t̅͋̽҉ḣ̐͒̊ͪ̅a̸ͨͬt̽̑̒͌.̛̎̍̈̿ͮ͊ͮ Do you think that your existence is meaningful? That you exist in some real, definitive way? Ḑ̦͉̙̗͉͕ͅo̪̥ ̱̜͖̯͚̱̲y̢̪̦o̹͙̲̼͘u̻̲̫̪ b̛̘̣̯e̴̮̫͍̜̺l̰̰̘̙͈̬̗i͙̲̻͙̠͞e̞̟̰̙͕̺̪v̲̖̻̙͇͕e͙̝̩̩̭ ̬t̲̙͈̺h͡a̰̤̺̦͔͈̪͢t̸̘͔̘̩̥͚ͅ ̠̞͓̝y͠o̸̭̱̮̘̮u̷̲͈̪͔͈ ̦̻̼̬͚͢a̤̲͈̲̗͉̰re̶̯ ̟̫͠y̮͇̳̕o͖̹̹u̳̲̥r̯͓͚se̲͝l̵̖̳̫̥̙̻̹f̯̻̟͟ͅ?̩̗̫   
  
Do you understand? Are you even _beginning_ to understand?   
  
  
I don’t think you do   
  
  
I don’t think you _can_   
  
  
  
  
Ị̸̙̠̳ ̫̦̘̙h̙̤a̟̱̝v̷̫̪̬̟e̞̹̬ ҉͕̜̺̭̻ͅẹ͍͉x̹̲̲͚̙i͙̥̤s̘̩̺͜ṱ̨̥̲͍̱e̵̤d̮͙̟̱͎͉ ͚̠̫͍b̨̪͔e͝fo̬̱̤̣r̡͓̱̭͔̭e̫̱̘̞̟ ̥y̰̹̥̭͔ͅͅo̥̻̫̲̹̕u̡̘͙   
  
  
  
  
Í͕̥̹̹̦̘ ͦ̅w̄i̡̲̪̺̳ḻ̐̚l͈̻͕̞̬̘̈́̄̈̀ͧ̚ ̹͢e̺̙̜̟ͮ̆ͦͮx̢̐̔̓ͫͦ̉i̬͂̀ͩs̤͙ͫ̔̃̓ͨ̿ͪ͡t̼̘̥̖̭͌̆̓́̿ͣ́ ̝̞̥̜͙̻̺̈ͦ̊ͦͯa̷̺̩͚̗͕̤͎ͥ̇̉͆̊̓f̟̗̭t̽̎̀̌ͪͧ́e̷̘̞̳ͣ̐ͅr̄͊ͩͮͯ͒ͥ҉̗   
  
  
  
  
Ḯ̦͚̦͇̥͖̦͕̼̏͒̓͆̚ ͐ͥ͂ͫͩ҉̭̥̜a̵̝͌̃̽̐̃̅ͮm̎̂ͮ̍̈̐̉͆҉̩̣̳̣̥̠̬̫ ̶̟̹̤̪͕̞͋ͬ̄͒ͨ͢e̜͖̖̘ͤ̒ͤ̈̿͐͟ţ̲͎ͦ͞ȩ̷͚͍̃̔͐͝ř͖͎̜̗͎͓̜̳̒̊ͥ̽n̵̠̥̼̬͊̎͒͢a̵̴̵̼͖̟͍̻͙͕͑ͥͧͦ̇l͚̖̬͉̟̗͇ͨ̐ͫ̓ͧ͌̿   
  
  
  
  
Į̴̬̩̦͓̊ͥ̐ͬ̿̌̃̍̈́͑̏ͫͪ̔̑͊̕m͒̈́̔̍̂̀̔̓͟҉̴̨͔͔͚͍͢m̛̒ͭ̐̏̄̌͏̤̹̻̼̮͈̯̠̗̬̗̟͚̱͞o̦̝͖̖̺̬̳̍ͣͤ͌ͦ̈ͬ̇ͦͣ̏̽ͣ͞͞͠ṙ̛̺̠̬̰̮̣̟͇̫̗̭̰̟̳̘̦̥͍͌̒ͥͫ̅ͯ͆̕t͈̦̥͉͎ͤͯ̓̇͠a̸̛͍͇̜̫̟̲̯͆ͣ̆ͧͩ͂͐̅ͪ̔͒͌͌͌̍ͪl̷̴̨̝͓̗͓̣̦̦̼̖͇̦͈̲̋̿̿ͮ̂͒ͮ͆̾ͩ̒̓̐̈̎   
  
  
  
  
  
Dearest – I am _everywhere_


	61. Revisionist

The last thing that Damara expected to see when the door opened again was Aradia – panting heavily and clutching at her head. She looked around, eyes wide, as she stumbled inside.

“Have any of those trolls been in here?” She sounded like she’d been running for miles. “Any more of those fucking Scratch zombies?!”

Latula was already on her feet – Damara went to follow, but she was still aching from the surgery. Standing unsteadily, she leaned heavily into Latula and groaned. “No, that one… Kankri? He came in before then left.”

“He’s fucking dead,” Aradia sent bluntly. Meulin smashed his head in and ran off – Kurloz went after her. I have a feeling I know where they’re going but… it’s not going to work.” She winced as if something had suddenly stabbed at her. “This place… I can’t fucking do this much longer.”

“What is it?” Damara asked. “Your bio-mods?”

“No, not that. The thing… whatever the fuck Scratch is, this isn’t the first time I’ve been exposed to what he really is. It gets inside your head. It hurts. The closer I am to this place, the more it hurts.”

“What did you mean it’s not going to work?” Latula asked. “What isn’t going to work?”

She grimaced and bowed her head before speaking again. “Kurloz… I think Scratch showed him the trolls – the ones like Kankri. If I’m right then…” she stopped talking suddenly and grabbed at her head again, groaning. “God this fucking hurts! They’re probably going to try and destroy those trolls – probably figure if they get rid of the host bodies then Scratch’ll be gone.”

Latula wasn’t exactly following what was happening, but Aradia seemed sure enough that it didn’t matter. “Lemme fucking guess – he’ll still be there?”

“Yes,” Aradia looked up again, her eyes blazing. “He won’t have the physical bodies but at this point it doesn’t matter. The whole complex – the whole damn Green Moon – it’s focusing whatever he is. Whatever _it_ is. As long as this place is still intact, he’s going to keep doing this. He doesn’t fucking _need_ a body for that!”

From next to Latula, Damara grunted and leaned in heavily. “What are we supposed to do?” she said – she sounded like it was taking most of her energy just to speak at this point. “I’m basically fucking useless.”

“How come there’s no alarms or anything?” Latula asked, looking around. “If Kankri is dead – Scratch knows, right?”

“Of course he fucking knows!” Aradia snapped. “Why would he use an alarm? All he needs to do is think something – to broadcast his feelings out to every one of those bodies and into the Felt. We’re lucky this place wasn’t built with automated defensive systems or we’d already be dead.”

“What do you want us to do?!” Latula shouted. She was shaking – her whole body was shaking. “Damara is recovering from Scratch pulling half her bio-mods out, you look like shit, and I’m just one person. What the hell?!”

“We need to go find Meulin and Kurloz,” she responded. “I know where they went.”

* * *

The trip down the corridor took forever now. Damara was recovering rapidly from her surgery (apparently the bio-mods for enhanced healing weren’t entirely deactivated), but she was still weak. Latula helped her walk along, supporting her with a shoulder. From Damara’s breathing, this caused her a fair amount of pain, but Damara didn’t say anything. Aradia kept walking ahead of them, her head bent and her shoulders tense. Whatever was happening, it was _hurting_ her.

Around the next corner, there were two trolls that looked oddly similar to Kankri standing there, holding military carbines. Latula stopped, putting her arms around Damara.

“You are not supposed to be out.” The left-hand troll spoke, his voice completely flat. Whatever the trick was, Latula figured it worked less well when Scratch was trying to spread himself out. “Walk back the way you came.”

Aradia didn’t stop walking.

The troll-things – that was all Latula could think of to describe them – must’ve had slower reaction times too, because Aradia hit the first one before they had a chance to fully process that she wasn’t stopping.

And she was fast.

She grabbed the carbine and kicked hard, twisting the weapon out of the troll’s grip. In one motion, she turned and fired the gun into the other troll, catching him up along the chest and head. Strange-colored ruby blood hit the wall and the impact of the first gunshots had only just registered when Aradia swiveled back and put a single round through the first troll’s skull. The troll dropped immediately, the lower gravity of the Green Moon bringing him down more gently than Latula expected.

Aradia grabbed the other carbine. “I don’t suppose you’re in any kind of shape to use this?” Damara shook her head, still leaning against Latula heavily. Latula considered taking the gun for a moment but reconsidered when she felt that weight against her.

“Fine.” Aradia ejected the magazine and stuffed it into a pocket. “The gunshots will bring more of them. God knows how good he is at spitting his attention. He doesn’t think like us.”

“You said you could feel him.” Damara’s voice – cold. “What does that mean? What does Meulin know. What did you mean?”

Aradia stopped and looked back. “We don’t have time for this right now.”

“No.” Damara refused to move. “Make time. What is he?”

Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh. “I’m not sure, but some of us have felt what he is – maybe not Scratch specifically, but things like him. Out there in the Deep Felt. Something that watches from beyond our conception of space and time.”

“Why would something like that care about taking over the Empire?” Damara asked, her voice sounding skeptical.

“I don’t know. I can’t even begin to explain how Scratch thinks. Maybe he gets something out of it – maybe he’s just bored and wants to play around with us for a while.”

“So… what?” Damara laughed. “He’s a fucking _god?!_ ”

Aradia narrowed her eyes. “No. I think he’s only able to manifest in this world due to the work done on this moon. Without those systems, I doubt he could break through. And his reach is limited, or else he would’ve already struck at the Empress. Why bother with all this when he could just take over the Fleet itself?”

She had a point – Latula found herself nodding along.

“Is that enough? Did I answer your questions, Sergeant?” Damara flinched at the mention of her former rank but said nothing. “Good, then let’s fucking go.”

* * *

The twists and turns of the corridors led them eventually to one that terminated in a large steel door. Outside the door were a pair of trolls that also looked eerily similar to the one that had been called Kankri. They were facing the door.

Then they weren’t. Two shots from the carbine and two hits to the head made sure of that. The scarlet mist splattered on the door and Latula found that she wasn’t even fully registering what was happening. She ran to the door and pounded on it.

“Kurloz! Open up! It’s us!” She yelled at the top of her lungs but she didn’t imagine that she could be heard through the door. “Fuck!” That was purely for herself.

A hand on her shoulder – she turned to see Aradia frowning. “They can’t hear you in there. Door’s reinforced against a blast.”

“Fuck!” Again, for herself. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Leave them for now. They’re not in any danger yet. We need to find the others.” Aradia pushed past Latula and walked back, with Latula struggling to catch up without leaving Damara behind. She didn’t feel right about this – about leaving her friends behind like that. Meulin and Kurloz were tough, but they were only two. Bashing one troll’s head in didn’t automatically translate into being able to take out a veritable army of them.

“I can’t do that.” Latula wouldn’t move. Aradia turned and walked forward, snarling.

“Get your ass in gear or wait here for more of them to show up and maybe kill you. I don’t fucking care. But Scratch is going to decide that this isn’t fun enough eventually and then either we know how to stop him or he knows how to stop us. You catch my meaning?”

Latula glared, but she couldn’t think of a way to argue with it. Instead, she bent over and retrieved the carbines the two trolls had been holding, handing one to Damara and slinging the other one around her own shoulder.

“Fine,” she said in a voice that sounded far calmer than she felt. “Lead the way.”


	62. Glass Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a depiction of major character death.

Meenah had been sitting for a while when she heard the gunshots go off. Two quick _snap_ s in the distance then… nothing. She hoisted herself up from where she’d been half-squatting against the wall – no one was visible through the airlock back in the corridor, and the other door was solid steel.

Bastard-ass fucker left me here.

She stood up and began to pace from one end of the airlock to the other, tapping the ground with the tip of her foot every so often. What Scratch said didn’t make sense to her, but she figured it’d make sense to someone. Maybe if Mituna were there – he’d probably know best. Maybe if Scratch wasn’t lying about her friends being on their way.

Meenah sat back down and leaned up against the wall, banging her head back into the cold metal that lined the side of the airlock. She hadn’t been ready for any of this – despite everything she’d told herself. She’d always told herself that the thing with Aranea was fun, but nothing permanent.

So you can never go back over something _fun?_ You’re a fuckin dumbass.

That was the truth – she almost laughed at herself. Would’ve laughed at herself, if it hadn’t ended so badly. She could _see_ Aranea lying there dead and she hadn’t even been there to see it. She’d been red for Aranea, no doubt.

She loved her.

Not past-tense – she still loved her. Even though she wasn’t there anymore, she was acting like a sappy little grub crawling to their lusus when they were scared. It was painful to the point of being maddening, and she had no idea what to do about it.

There was a mechanical click, and the hissing noise of the airlock disengaging. But it wasn’t the one that led back into the corridor – it was the airlock door that led out to the landing pads. A low grinding noise ran through the airlock and the door slowly raised.

Meenah could see people standing there before it even fully opened – four or five of them, it looked like.

But she only needed to recognize one.

Vriska was standing there, the same smug expression on her face as always.

Meenah launched herself up from her spot by the wall and ran full-tilt at Vriska. The cerulean blood had some kind of firearm, but it didn’t matter. Meenah hit her at a run, slamming into her chest and throwing a hard punch directly into her throat.

Vriska made a choking noise and stumbled back – Meenah grabbed the carbine she was holding and twisted sharply. The gun wrenched free and Meenah brought the butt around – it connected with Vriska’s head with a muted _crunch_ and Vriska stumbled back.

The others were moving, but Meenah didn’t even take stock of who they were, much less what they were doing. She surged forward and slammed the carbine into Vriska’s head again, sending the troll stumbling backwards. One more hit and Vriska dropped to her knees.

Meenah raised the carbine, this time pointing it directly at Vriska’s head.

“Got any last words, you blue-blooded bitch?”

Vriska mumbled something unintelligible and Meenah pushed the barrel of the gun up against her head.

“Good enough.” Meenah began to squeeze the trigger. Just a hair and it would break and that would be the end of it.

“Don’t fucking do it.” Meenah recognized Terezi’s gravel-strained voice without even having to look. “I’ll fucking kill you, Peixes.”

Meenah smiled.

And pulled the trigger.

* * *

The first thing Meenah remembered when she woke up was the smirk on Vriska’s face as she walked into the airlock – a face she’d never make again. A hollow-point bullet had seen to that.

She hadn’t been shot – Terezi must’ve been so angry she didn’t even bother with the gun. But she was also still alive.

Groaning, Meenah turned and looked over – Terezi was pinned face-down and growling. Horuss Zahhak was kneeling on top of her, holding her from getting up with an expression of grim determination on his face.

“I need you to get me and Aranea offworld,” Meenah said, her voice slurring a bit. That wasn’t right though.

Because Aranea was dead.

Meenah turned the other way and she saw Vriska’s body on the floor, a pool of cerulean spreading out from beneath her head. She should’ve felt a sense of satisfaction at that, but instead found herself only feeling strangely empty. Aranea’s killed had been killed, but it hardly mattered because Aranea was still gone forever.

She struggled to sit up, and from behind her a familiar set of tattooed arms slipped around her chest and helped her up. Porrim leaned into her back, both propping her up and comforting her.

“I’m sorry,” Porrim said quietly. “I know it still hurts.”

From across the airlock, Terezi screeched at her. “You fucking _bitch!_ Bulge-rotting piece of shit! I’ll fucking murder you for what you did!”

“You will do no such thing!” Porrim’s voice was strong – louder and harsher than Meenah had heard before. “Whatever your beliefs are regarding retribution, Vriska had that coming ever since she decided to kill Aranea Serket in cold blood. You can either accept that… or you can join her.”

Meenah reminded herself that it would be wise not to underestimate the tall jade blood. If nothing else, her experiences over the last couple weeks had hardened her – brought out something that had been deeply buried before.

Porrim’s arms were around her, holding her close. Whatever their… thing had been before, the woman at least cared about her. Meenah groaned.

“We’re still trapped here, you realize?” Mituna’s voice, from near the airlock. Meenah couldn’t see him. “I think Scratch let us in here on purpose, but the interior door is locked down.”

Gunshots!

Meenah pushed herself up fully. “Something’s happening inside. I heard gunshots earlier and… I don’t know, something feels weird about all this.”

“Scratch isn’t Alternian.” Mituna’s voice was shaking. “He’s not an AI either. He’s… I don’t know what he is, but he’s in the Deep Felt and he’s getting more powerful.”

“I don’t fucking care! I just want to go home!” Meenah shouted. She felt Porrim squeeze her waist.

“I might remind you that home is currently in the middle of a burgeoning civil war,” Porrim said softly. “Largely incited by Scratch’s machinations, I might add.”

“Damn it all, I know that…” Meenah felt so powerless. Even having gotten vengeance for Aranea, there was nothing she could actually do to help anyone here.

“You fucking _bitch!_ ” Terezi screamed and tried to thrash out from underneath Horuss. “You fucking _killed her!_ ” As if any of them had forgotten that particular piece of information. Meenah didn’t even bother to try to respond.

She didn’t feel any better. She’d expected to feel better – having finally taken that bitch out behind the proverbial shed and put her down like the barkbeast that she was. But instead… no satisfaction and no regret… only emptiness.

“I will _fucking kill you!_ ” Terezi’s voice rose into a shriek – then went silent as a heavy _whump_ of Horuss’ fist connected with her jaw.

“Thanks,” Meenah muttered, but Horuss shook his head.

“I did not do it for you – she would’ve gladly seen me dead as well in her fury.” He shrugged, not bothering to get up from his spot seated on Terezi’s back. “Besides, you still owe me money and she doesn’t.”

Meenah grunted – he wasn’t joking about the money.

Porrim addressed Mituna directly – “What do you know about Scratch?”

“He spoke to me in the Deep Felt and it was… it was _wrong_ in a way that’s hard to describe.” He clasped his hands together, wringing them slightly. “I’ve never… it’s never been like that before, not even in the Deep Felt.” He walked forward, stopped at a wall, and balled both fists before banging against the metal.

“It’s not supposed to be this way!” Mituna shouted at the wall. “Fuck!”

She needed to think. Needed to think past this – because she was all they had now. Aranea was gone.

Gunfire – something’s happening.

No one was here – even with the sound of the carbine, the strange puppet-trolls hadn’t returned. They were being left alone to sit with their own thoughts.

“How can we destroy him?” Meenah asked, not even sure where he was going with this.

Mituna turned and narrowed his eyes, the look of disbelief apparent. “What? Destroy him? What the fuck?”

There was only one way to do it. Meenah shook her head. “Do as much damage to this place as possible. This building – this whole facility. Something in it is allowing him to do this. Acting like an amplifier or something.”

There was a moment and Mituna looked up – a look of slow realization was breaking onto his face.

“The Sky Hammer.” His voice was quiet – ominous. Meenah had no idea what he was talking about.

“What the fuck is that?” Meenah grimaced – the pain in her head was spreading down to her neck and she wasn’t able to ignore it anymore. A fair trade to pay Vriska back for Aranea, regardless of how she happened to feel afterwards.

“A kinetic acceleration cannon, for planetary defense.” Mituna stared at the wall, thinking. “But it’s designed to fire out into space… it was put there just in case any of the Fleet got out of hand, I guess. We learned about it in training.”

No it wasn’t… that’s not why they made it.

Thoughts racing, Meenah struggled to her feet, leaning against Porrim. The Empire was cruel and indifferent to the suffering of its people, but it was not stupid. They knew what they were doing on the Green Moon and what the risks were. There was no way they hadn’t been ready for this.

“This cannon,” Meenah said. “Is it orbiting this moon, by any chance?”

“Yeah, it is…” Mituna stopped – he was beginning to realize the same thing. It was the only conclusion they could draw.

“Did you bring wetware? Is the cannon connected to the Felt?” She was trying desperately to keep the edge of hope out of her voice – there was so much that could go wrong.

Mituna nodded, silently and gestured toward the end of the airlock.

“Go get it and come back here,” Meenah said. “Scratch is spread thin right now. He’s waging a war that requires his attention – he’s dealing with whatever’s happening up here – he’s trying to keep a million different things going. So what you’re going to do, is you going to break inside, hijack control of that cannon…” She paused and a real smile was forming on her face. Because this was all ultimately Scratch’s fault.

“...and we’re going to blow this bastard straight to hell!”


	63. Moonlight Congregational

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter contains some semi-graphic descriptions of violence/gore.

Kurloz stared out once again at the rows of similar-looking trolls. Given their identically stubby horns and the color of the blood that had flowed when Meulin had smashed in Kankri’s face – they were all mutants. Off the blood spectrum itself – genetically destined to a lifetime of menial labor purely by virtue of something that they couldn’t control. Or, if they weren’t so lucky, confinement in one of the Health Houses… or…

Or this. Suspended in a state of dreamless half-existence, waiting for the moment when they would be plugged into the Deep Felt. Or maybe they were already plugged in. Maybe they were dreaming – of a formless obsidian tower that rose endlessly into the skies, blotting out everything.

Kurloz didn’t know why the image sprang so readily to his mind. He’d never dived the Felt himself, and he didn’t remember Mituna ever talking about something like that. But there it was – the image was so strong he could practically reach out and touch it… feel the strangely-warm stone. Warm as a living thing, softly breathing in the un-light.

What are we going to do? Meulin’s hands were shaking as she signed, the adrenaline starting to wear off. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead!

Kurloz simply shook his head.

I can’t do this! Meulin’s hands were frantic and she looked like she was about to start panicking. You don’t understand! I can feel him inside my head! All the time – he’s trying to get inside and then… Her hands fell to her side. 

Once upon a time, Kurloz had been so clear in his purpose. He’d known the truth of the Mirthful Messiahs. He’d had a place within the world, and that place was assured. He ventured out as a questant, as was the tradition of the Order. He preached the gospel of the Messiahs not by proselytizing but by doing good works. He saw those in need and chose to bring himself to them – to help them.

Everything he believed had been founded on lies. The dim truth underneath everything wasn’t that there was nothing out there… the truth was that what was out there was nothing like he had been taught. It was vast and incomprehensible, but at the same time could manifest itself in a way that was almost painfully simple.

Why would a being of such strange essence – something so existentially _other_ – care about the Empire? About politics? About control or power? It was as ridiculous as the idea of the Mirthful Messiahs caring in the slightest about what Alternians did.

Please… I can’t be here anymore! Meulin pressed her hands to her head and closed her eyes. I can feel him watching us!

Maybe it was a product of being filtered through the Alternians that formed the core of this bizarre experiment – maybe whatever Scratch was had been altered at its very core by that experience. Or maybe whatever Scratch was just happened to be more petty and less godlike than expected.

He wrapped Meulin in his arms and half-carried her back toward the door. Don’t worry he signed one-handed. It’s okay.

Someone was pounding on the door, but Kurloz ignored it. Muffled yelling from the other side – no way of knowing if it was one of Scratch’s puppets. Meulin looked like she was about to pass out, so he helped her settle onto the ground.

We need to get you out of here, kittybitch.

She smiled. No shit. We need to destroy these – things – in the tanks. It’ll hurt him. Maybe not a lot but…

It was more than nothing. Kurloz turned back and glared at the rows of glass tanks, each one containing some unfortunate Alternian who’d had the bad fortune to be born off the blood spectrum. Weaponized by the Empire for purposes that would never amount to any kind of good. Abandoned here and turned into thralls.

Something inside Kurloz snapped.

He would never break the glass that the trolls floated behind – it was designed to stand up to far more than anything he could bring to bear. All he had was his own fists – it was impossible. But there were lots of delicate circuits and fragile terminals, and some of them must have something to do with controlling conditions in those tanks.

Rip into the soft underbelly until it bleeds to death. Just keep ripping until something gives way. Kurloz walked to the console in the middle of the room and began to kick at the side, shattering the delicate electronics. He moved along the console methodically, putting his full weight behind every blow, and when he reached the end of it, he looked out over the large open room again.

Every one of those people in the tubes had been promised something – there was no doubt. They had been told something about how this was temporary, or it was for their own good. How many sweeps had they been suspended in this half-existence? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? Did they even perceive anything anymore?

Kurloz glanced back at Meulin, who was still sitting on the ground.

What are you doing?

He shook his head. Whatever I can, sister. Whatever I can.

The first tube loomed above him – the thick glass taunting his inability to do more. But there were control panels and bundles of electronics and wires on every single one of the tanks. Kurloz began to tear into them, ripping out entire swaths of wiring by the handful. The veins of the beast – the muscle and sinew and nerve endings that kept it alive. Every piece was another neuron that could never fire again.

There was a whirring, humming pump attached to the side of the tank that seemed important. Kurloz kicked it and tore into everything he could get his hands on until it stopped whirring and humming. Inside the tank, he saw the water start to cloud up. And then the troll inside began to twitch – to convulse where he was and then to writhe and then… he began to choke. His eyes never opened, but he thrashed violently and beat his head against the side of the tank until…

Until he couldn’t anymore.

And Kurloz realized that he’d discovered where the respirator pumps were.

He began the grim business ahead of him.

* * *

By the end of it, Kurloz was numb. He counted twenty-four trolls in the tanks. Twenty-four respirators smashed. Twenty-four Alternians who choked to death without ever even waking up. He was a murderer. Even if they were suffering and he was freeing them, he was still a murderer. The Messianic Order of Joy held a dim view towards the taking of innocent life, and these trolls were the very definition of that.

He sat down next to Meulin, who was holding her legs up against her chest and rocking back and forth slightly, her eyes wide.

I’m so sorry, sister… He didn’t know what else to tell her. 

No… Her hands paused as she thought. They were already gone… I could…

She stopped and put her hands in front of her face – tears streaming down. Meulin whimpered and rocked in place again. When she brought her hands back to sign again, her face was twisted into an expression of sheer pain. I could hear them inside my head. Just like him but… different. Like echoes of what he is. Whoever they were once, they weren’t anymore.

Kurloz leaned over and put his arms over her shoulders. They sat like that together until the lock on the massive entry door clicked and the door began to rumble open. Kurloz jumped up, hauling Meulin along and stepping back from the door.

Standing on the other side was the troll known as Kankri. Or, rather, what was left of him. His skull was half-caved and one eye was erased in a smear of blood. His jaw looked all wrong – everything about him looked all wrong. He stepped forward.

“I… am… disappointed…” Speech was taking a lot out of the body, but it wasn’t Kankri that was speaking. “This tantrum was… unnecessary.”

“My sister started this but…” Kurloz stepped forward but the Kankri-thing laughed around broken teeth and a dislocated jaw. A sound that was wet and hot and terrible all at once. The one functioning eye fixed on Kurloz.

“You’ll… finish it? Right?” It drew in a breath that wheezed and Kurloz thought that maybe it didn’t even _need_ to breathe at all. “Sit down and… wait for the end already.”

Kurloz didn’t wait for it to say more – he lashed out at the broken face of the thing –

It caught his fist and twisted with a strength that was unnatural. Meulin leapt forward but the Kankri-thing kicked her square in the stomach, sending her skittering back to the ground. The thing pushed forward, dragging Kurloz with it and pulling him to the ground. It wasn’t speaking anymore, just rasping in uneven, gulping chunks as it methodically went about its business.

Kurloz hit the ground hard and rolled to the side. The thing was after Meulin now, raining blows with its fists and feet as it closed the distance. She struck it hard in the gut but it barely flinched. Whatever small amount of Alternian essence had been left in the shell that was Kankri Vantas, it was gone now. This thing was a weapon as simply as any gun or knife, and it was being trained at them.

A hard _crack_ and Meulin fell back, reeling. Kurloz struggled back to his feet and charged at the thing – it dropped with surprising agility and kicked at his knee. The pain was instantaneous and sharp and he felt himself falling again.

The thing spoke, and the voice that came out sounded like nothing Kurloz had ever heard. “I am giving you this opportunity because this husk is nothing more than the barest extension of who I am.”

The thing walked forward and drove a foot straight into Kurloz’s throat, knocking him back.

“I have waited uncountable aeons – have seen the rise and fall of worlds beyond number. When your kind pierced into the dark… you amused me. I would gladly rule you for a time – as a benevolent tyrant, to use the terms this decaying sack of meat is familiar with.” The broken face tried to sneer and Kurloz swore he could hear the tendons creaking.

Pressure down on his throat – cutting off the air. Meulin was charging at the thing again and it dropped into a low crouch and turned deftly, sending her head-over-heels into the air. Something wet snapped into place somewhere on the thing’s face and Kurloz felt his stomach churn.

“I’ve changed my mind… you two aren’t worth keeping alive.”

The thing – the thing that wore the face of a troll but was anything _but_ a troll – turned back to Kurloz. He tried to get up but his knee buckled again. The Kankri-thing lashed out, kicking him in the face – Kurloz’s jaw popped and he fell back onto the ground again. The thing was on his throat again, pressing down with strength that it shouldn’t have had.

It was _smiling_ at him.

Everything began to fade away.

The world was fuzzy.

* * *

Two snaps that sounded too far away and the thing standing on his throat stumbled back. Air flooded back into his lungs and Kurloz coughed and rolled over. The Kankri-thing had two new holes in its chest and was snarling at someone –

Then it wasn’t snarling, because another bullet hit it in the head and the already-damaged skull disintegrated. The body collapsed next to Kurloz and he was sure he would’ve thrown up if there wasn’t already so much happening. Instead, he groaned weakly and rolled over fully.

Aradia was standing near the still-open door holding a rifle up. Behind her, Damara was leaning against the door. Latula was…

Latula was crouching next to him and helping him sit up and scoot away from the blasted-out body that had once belonged to a troll named Kankri Vantas. She held him.

“Sister…” he croaked out harshly. “Most righteous sense of timing…”

She was… crying? “Fuck! Mituna wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t come back. Are you okay?”

Kurloz almost laughed – it was such a silly thing to ask. Why did people say it?

“I’ll live, sister.”

That was the most he could manage.


	64. The Obsidian Spire

After all this was done, Mituna never wanted to put the wetware on again. He couldn’t understand the Felt junkies – the ones who found themselves addicted to the information overload you got when you clocked in. Sometimes he’d thought that Aranea was headed down that path – or maybe she’d already been there. They didn’t talk enough about it for him to know for sure, and now they never would. Another regret on the pile.

He’d gone back to the ship with the others. Terezi was restrained and put into a jump seat while the rest started to prepare the ship for launch. If his theory was correct, they would need to leave shortly after executing it.

The Green Moon was a kind of giant amplifier for the connection to the Deep Felt – something that Mituna was beginning to understand existed not as an extension of the Felt, but as something wholly separate that bled through from time to time. The interfacing might be similar, but the experience was completely different.

A kinetic acceleration cannon orbiting the moon – that wasn’t a coincidence. Mituna was even willing to bet a whole sweep’s stipend that there would be a very specific targeting protocol that would aim at a very specific part of the Green Moon. Hopefully not a path that intersected with the launch pad. That would be a treacherous bridge to cross when they arrived at it.

For now… he was back in the same chair he’d been in countless times in several different ships. _The navigator’s seat_ was what it was traditionally called – although there was usually more than one of them and it wasn’t just used for navigating. The Deep Felt access point.

“You ready, Captor?” Meenah sounded confident, but she looked worried. “You really think this shit’ll work?”

“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer, even if he didn’t like having to say it. “I have no idea how powerful he really is, okay?”

Meenah sighed, and it sounded like there was an incredible weight on her. “I know. Look… don’t fuckin’ die, okay?”

Mituna smiled at her and winked. “You got it, boss.”

One last check of all the indicators – everything was as normal as it could be. Using that word to describe such a profoundly othering experience seemed odd, but it was all relative. Mituna put the headset on and s̝͙͝w͙̤̱͉͔i̡͕̩̤͙͎͔̯t̡̥̫̹c̵͎͓̝̞hed̴͚ ̷̹͎̰̻͔̣̘it̤ ̮̣͉͔o̶̞̳̯̬̟̞n̦͉͇̝̼̹

T̵̵̛he̶ ̷ac͝t̢̛͡ ̶̕of̴͘ ͜d̡̢e̡̡sc͏͟ri͝b̸̸in͡g͟ ͢͏n̡̕o̶̢̢t̡h҉ing̢n͘͡e͘͢s͠s ̨i̴̕͠s̵ ̡a̢͘͘ ki̡͏͠n̷d͠ ̴̨o̸͢f͢ ͠e̸x̢i͠s̶͘t̸̡͟e͜nt̵i̴̶͏a͢͠l͜͠ ͢҉e̕x͢e҉҉r̕c̡̕is̵ę. ̵̵H̷҉̴o̧͞͝w̧̢͜ d͡oe̡͞s̨͠ ͜o͜n̸̸̨e̛͟ ̡de͏͏s̢̕c̕͏r̴ib̸̨͜e̢͡ ͠s̷̶om̢e͟͠thi͘ng̴ ţh̸̨͞at̷̶̡ i̸n̢͜h͟͡e̶r҉e͟n̡͘t̛͝͏l͡y̡ ha͘͞͡s ̶no̶ ̷͘͠f͠͡o̸r͟҉m ̛o͏̢r̢͟ ̢͜͢s̴̨u̶b̢s̵͢t̵̨͜a҉n͝͏cę̴?   
  
MC > WH47 15 7H15?! WH47'5 H4PP3N1NG?!   
MC > W̴ͥH̔̏ͬ̔͂̓ͧY̛̌̓ ̔͂ͮ͐̈̄̓D̷͑̂͊͌0ͫͦͩ҉3̂̽͆̊ͣ̈̿͘5̢̆̇̎̓̎ͮ ̃̋́͑̐͞1͗͛ͬ̏7̎̀͡ ̢̉͂̾̓̃̅͗Fͨͬͩ3͒̎̋̀ͪ3Lͦͥ̑̐̿ͨ͘ L̇̍͐͗͞1̌̅̎͒͊Kͪ͋͐̓͊ͭͨ3ͪ͆̈́͋͊͗ ̡͂̾̚7H̒́̀ͯ̆̄̊1̓̏̚5ͥͪ?̢̔̊͊͋ͤ̍͒!͜   
  
Mituna’s mind reeled as the world spun around him and all traces of the normal dropped out. This was unlike any time he’d experienced the Deep Felt in the past. It had always been a strange, profoundly alienating experience. It always hurt.   
  
T̈͐ͫh̎͑ͭͤ̇ͦ́iͮ̃ͧͤsͤ̾̊̎ͨ̚ ͊̀̑͑̒ͦ͌t̽͑́̚i̽mͩͬͣͭ̓͊ẻ̌̿ͣ̄̑͐ ͐̒ͥ̃̓ͯiͪ̐ͬ͛t͂͒̎ͪ̄̔ͯ ̾͊͐̆͊hͨ̾͊͊ͣû͆̈̋ͯ̋rͪͨ̎̈́̇̊̊ͤt̓ͦ ̈́͊̏͌m͂͐o͆̋̒̆͊ͣ͛̚r̾̎ͬ́̄ͥ̾e̍̈́̾ͩͤ͋̀̎̊ ̐ͤt̾͒̇̇̊͑̎̋̈́ȟͫͮ͋ͬaͩ̈́̾̚n̿͋̊̅̂̉̏ ͐̂͋ͧͧ͆e̿̍ͯv̍̌̚ȅͯ͛ͮͫ̔̚ȓͫͪͥͥ͆̿͑.̾ͨ   
  
MC > 4R3 Y0U 0U7 7H3R3 Y0U 51CK 84574RD?   
  
Ţ̧̭̖̞̜̼̠͕ͬͭ̀̎ͨ͆ͥh̦͕̙̳̪̩͚̥͗̒ͣ̚͜é̆ͤ͑͏͎̲̠̦͕̝͇̕͢ͅr͙̺̮͔͓͚̗̪ͩ͗̐̏̀͘͠e̸͇̖̲͈̠̩̬͓̭͐ͪ̆́̂͂̚͘͠ ̻̠͉͙ͩ̇̔ͅw̵̸̺̟̣͔͕̲̥̱̦̋͋ͪa̶̢̱ͩ̃ͩ̀̈́s̭͐ͥ̽̎͂͒ͬ ̠̯͓͂̍̓ͮ̅͒͘͝n̷̨͉̗̮̤̺ͩ͆͛̆ͦ̈́̈́̏̏o̓̈́͂ͤ̀̈̚͏͖̭̤ ̡̭̹̮͓̝̿̒̈̉ͥ̆̋r̞͇̄ͯͤͤe͛̆͝͏͔ş́͐̉̅̇҉͓̭̻͓̬̳̖͍̕ͅp̷͈̳̮̭̲̂ͤ̇͊̈́̔o̸̫̠̼̤͖͙͌̌͂̉͑n̒ͬ͞҉̟̲s̷̯̳̐́̀̒ę̤͈͓͒̿͛̋.͈̭̖̬̪̳̓̍̓ͧ͟   
  
Mituna tried to steady himself – to bring his mind back into line. Everything about this was wrong. He’d been trained in how to navigate the deepest regions of the Deep Felt. To plunge into that ever-black abyss and return unharmed.   
  
**Ț͕̩͚̮̠̩̓ͬ͌̎̐h̠̫̲̠͚̺͂̒ͅa̯̣̰͖̳̞̺ͭ̌ͮ̈ͦ̐̓̃t͚̰͎̤ͩ̑̽͑ ̞̝̠̳ͯͩh̜͎͖̳͕̝ͤ̄̿ͤ̏̉a͚̼͙̦̜̣̠͗̑ͪ̃̽ͤd̪͍͕̟̞͊̉͛̏̚ ̰̮̻̖͚͆̽̓ͣ̊̄̅b̞͐̂̊e̙̹͍̼̦̝ͥȇ͇̟̟̜̗̼͉͛̈n͚͍͈̼͎̰̈ͦ͊̍ͮ ̫̹̘̗̯͚ͣ̅͆̃ͬ͗ͨä͓̞̣̖̲͓͚́̐͗͂ ̙̘̙͍͕͎ͮ̓̏̿ͮͩ́̓ḽ̹͚͍̲̪ͧͦ̓̋ͧî̭̺͕͍̬͍̼̬̝ͧ͆̌̅ͤ̓̚e̳̹̩̞͉ͣ̓̉̇͌̎ͦͩͯ ̙͚̪̺͚̣͂͑̆͛̈́ͣ̎t̻̱̭͕̟̻̦͙̄̏̓ͤ͂o͍̞̺̝̥̻͇̯̼̐̈̒̒̆ͫͦ̅ö̘̫̞͔̌͛̀̚.̣̥͉̋̑ͤ**   
  
Everywhere around him, the roaring black of the void pushed on him. The sensations didn’t even make sense – the ideas of sound and pressure rather than any actual, physical sensation. It didn’t matter – the effect was still almost unbearable.   
  
I want to tear this shit off my head!   
  
But he wasn’t sure if he could, even if he wanted to. The deeper he fell, the more he was losing his sense of who he was. He simply existed inside of the Deep Felt – a traveler but also a permanent resident, unable to leave even if he wanted to.   
  
MC > 15 4NY0N3 0U7 7H3R3?   
  
Was that it? D̶͓̱̰i̪̬͈̰̺̩̳d̺̲̬ ͓̙̫̳h̺̫̯̫̫e̠̯ ̕w҉̬͚a͟n͎͖͚͍͈̝̱t ̼͖̩͈͓͉ͅt͚̯̟̫͘o ҉͚̥s͚̣͞t̡̪̭̠̝͚a͖ỵ̗͙̱̼̺ ̰͓̭̬͈̝̮͠h̲͇̦͕̤e҉̜͔̥̲͕̠̯r̷̙͍͎̺ḛ̠̜?̳͎̣͙͙͝   
  
MC > KURL0Z?!   
MC > M3UL1N?!   
  
MC > L̹̤̩̹͍̣͙̻̩̭͎̱͈̗̖4̮̜͙̣̙̹̦̲̝͉̪̘̦7͈͙͉̺U̳͍͙͇̮̗̖̻͇̻̗͔͇̱̫ͅL͉̺̬̞͉̫̥̝͇͍͚̹ͅ4̬̤̳̱̯̩͖̠͈̲̱͎̦̗ͅͅ.͙̬̜̖̣̠̬̖ͅ.̖̮̰͇̗̬͉̘̺̲̤͕̗̝̯̤̱̤.͙͖̼͔̼̖̥̩͕̖̰͔   
  
  
You know how badly you hurt her.   
  
Of course he knew that! How much she hated him! How much she wanted him dead for what he did!   
  
No… wait… that wasn’t right…   
  
Of course he knew that! How much he hated her! H͉̰̜̦̤̒̕o̝̘̮͉͒̎ͪͮ͒w̠ͭ͗͛ͤ ̲͔̟̘̫̈̐̈̕ͅm̭͚͈ͩ̉̐̓͊͗ù̸̳̻̩c͚̺̼̯ͤͣh͖̯̞̘̟̔̐ ̗̭̓͋ͅĥ̦̠̞̬͖̃̈̍̕ě̼͔̹̤̲̐̃̆ͬ͂ ̤͈ͫ̇͊w̶͈͙̹ͅa͖̙͊̐͑ͮ̏ͩ̈́nt̻̼͙̤̪̉͑ͥ̀̆e̢̱̼̻͍̲ͣ͐ͪ͌d̙̜̳̖̩͒̄̄͛ͅ ̥͇̱͓̤͇̩ͤh̼̟͞e͌͏̳̮̥̰̹͔̳ř̛̦̰̟ͦ̀̽̉ͫ͊ ̙̬̘̖̥̔̈́̈͛ͪ̓͝d̈҉͉̪̯̞̻ͅe̞͔̜̺͕̅̾̅a̙͈̓͗ḍ̤̻̘̍̀̀ͯͥ͢ ̠̤̉f̗͈̆ͬ̀ͥ̽͐͘o͐́r̩̼̻ͨ͒͘ ̘̺̤̮̻͇̓ͪ̌͂̽w̼̎͐ͣ͑͌̅͡hͭ̐͆ͯ́ͪa̖̣͉̦͋ͫ̒̈́̄͛t̛͙͓̣͙̘̙̺ͮ͂̓̊ͯ̒̌ ̟̙ͦ̓ͬͣ̚̕s͂̔h̰̱͇ͩ̉̊̿̚e͍̤͖̼ͮ̓͢ ̘̭̐͂̏͋̓ď̖̞̖̩̝͕̓i̵̲ď̡͉̘!̯͙̩ͬ̚ͅ   
  
MC > 1'M 50 50RRY 3V3RY7H1NG 3ND3D 7H3 W4Y 17 D1D   
MC > 1 GU355 WH47 1'M 54Y1NG 15…   
MC > 3V3N 7H0UGH 17 D1DN'7 W0RK, 1 571LL M155 Y0U   
  
How much of that was even true anymore?   
  
M̒̇͐͂͘C̮̟͎̞͍͈̋̿͋ͨ͒͑̾ ̟̬̟̭͑̑≯̑ͫ̅̚ ̳͓̘̼͑̇ͧͨ̈̑͑ͅW̤̟̳͓̏͂͆ͅ3̱͙̖͙̉̿͊ ̑ͧ͋ͯͩͫ͑҉̣̱̠͉̟͔D̡̜̾̂͂̾1͙̘͎͎D͖̞̈́͑̌ͮ̊̌͜ ̻̺͙ͪ3͖̳ͩ̾ͮͩ̈͂̍V̶3̬͕̯͕͍͓͂ͫͧͩ͡R̴̜̭Y̹͔̞̗̘ͤͧ7̡̣̪̈́͊Ḥ̘͖̼̻͎͂͗̉͐͊̈̚͝ͅ1͎̞͔ͮ͐ͨ̈ͫ̔ͣŇ̲̰̰ͫͨ̕Ĝ́̐̇̓ ̞̰̱̟̖̥͉̓ͮ͂Y̧͙̰̥̥͚͑ͫ̌0̛̣̭̙͎̫͔͌͛ͭ̓͗ͯ͑U̼̹̟͍̣̼̗ ̵͇͕͉̤̗ͭͦͫͬ4̲̹̣5̠̻͉̼͍̹ͮͨͮ̔ͣͤ̚Kͨ̍͌́̂̋3̲̖̘̬͔̼̈́Dͬ͆͒̍!͒ͅ   
M̤̪͍͂̾̐̐ͤͫC̞͛̍̋͒ͦ ̝̮͓̣̪̬̈͌ͤ͢ͅ>͚̰̜̯̩ͪ̍̀̌͊̏ͣ ̵̘̬͚̩͛ͥͬ̏̈́ͮW͎͍͓̯͉̗͈̃̈ͥ̏̏ͦ3̺͉̘̺̐̋ͭͮ'̛̠̣̍̏ͨR̸͇͕̱͕̟ͦ3̴̘̮̹͍̣͚̓ ̷̞̭͖̼͋ͅ0̣̘͙̟̭̀͂̔̓̚͘Ṉ̩̹̬͍͇͖ ͕̲̏ͤ̾̈ͨ̐̂0̬́ͭ̏͠U̫̩̙͖͖̞ͤR͕̣ͦͯͮ ̷͍̔ͬ̋͛ͭW̲̦̥̠̌ͯͨͧ̅ͅ4̸̝̻̘̪̤̜̍ͨ̈Y̢̻̜͚̦̍̋̄ͮ̈͑̽ ̖̪̬̘͔̣̪͠N̢̑ͮͫ̈̐0̷̼̙̬̝̉̏̃ͪW̮̝̝̫̓̊…̥͕͍̀͛͛̚   
MC ͡> ͡83͞77͟3͏R H̴0LD҉ U͡P ̸Y0҉U͜R͘ 3̵ND 0F̵ 7H͠3̸ F̡U̴C͝K͡1̷N̵G ̶D̸34L͢!   
  
That part already happened… sweeps ago…   
  
No, not sweeps. A few day-cycles. A half a sweep. Cycles that re̷pe͡a̛t̸ th͡r͠oųgh ti̴m̡e̸ ̢an͘d͞ ech͡o͟ a̰̥͇̙̹̮͂͗͐͂̿́n̦͟d̲̼̄ͧ̒́̎ e͙̳͔̳̓̏̆̄̍c̳̹͔̰͎ͨͫ̅h͕̳̟͉̺̩͛̈́̅o͆ͥ̚̚͏̞̬ ̡͍̺̞̰ͥ̃̈͆̇̆ą̵̪̰͓͖̩̞̳͖̜͊n̒ͣ͜҉̜̤ͅd̐ͪ͑͐͘҉̩̘̝̲̮̦͎̺ ̡͈̟̐̊ͬ͗̽́é͖̭̤͎̯͙͍̉ͫͩc̷̢̯̻͈̣̯̖̲͇͑̊̋̾̾̂ͅh̯̗̜̯͓͉̮̙̙̋́̈́̾ͫỏ̧̢̨͈̯͙̞͓̾ͨͨ̎́̃͂ ̬̞͓͙̖̊́ͅã̟̜̼̥̟͔͚̩͔͕͔͇̝͈̺͖͈̄̊ͫ͟͝͠n̺͓̫͈͍̲̜̆ͣ͆ͥ͒ͭ̇̑̐̅d̢̖͍̺͇̪̣̺̽̍͗̍͊͒͗ͧ͋̄ͬ̾ͬ͗̑͗̕ ̵̡̡̲̟̭͍͎̖̟̲̭͔̥͆͊̓ͥͫ͞͝e̮̩͇̝̥̫̱̤͉̖̙̩̜̼̬̙͉̔̑̆̾̿̈̓͊̓̌̉̄ͭ̈́̂ͣ͜͝͡͠c͈̞̬̖͙̳͈͇͕ͬ̇ͧͯ̔͐̾ͯ͡͠hͮ̐͑̓ͧ̋͏̨̧͎̝͈̥͈̖͢͠ͅo̢̺̙̼͇̬̠̞̭̩͖̼̟̹̺̼̦ͩͪ̔ͩ͌̌͑͂̂̌͜ ̵̴̳͍̠̘͍̗̘̱̹̈͐ͫ̀̃͟͝â̷̷͙̲̗͓̘̙̖̫̝̺̺̦̲̺̇̅ͫͭ̅̑̄͐̅̆̚̕͘͠n̓̓̀̽҉̥͕̦͍̖̥̠͍̱͈̕͢͞d̷̛͈͍̣̣̂̆͛͆̓̌ͫͣͩ͗͢ ̡̎̾ͯ̒͟͟͡҉̝̺͍͓̙͉̖̦͚e̢̧͔̦͈̲̣̹̲͍̱͚̹̯̼ͤ̾̇͂̉̅ͯ͌̄̆̽͝ͅc̽͂̅̂ͦ̆̍̒̎͑̈́ͭ͐͋͆̓ͬ̾͗҉̢͉̲̥̟͔̤̯̱̻̱͕̭ḩ͚̪͕̥̉̌ͥͤͪͨͭ̍̒ͧͪͨ͌͐̀̒̚͝o̲̦̬̖̱̥͓̰̰̰͖̩̼̝͉̬͕͕̻ͨ͒ͩ̽̋͐̂͗͋̒̑̽̈́ͨ̾͆̾͘͢ ̨̪͇̗̳̼̮̀̎ͦ̊ͨ̅ͦ̂̌̚͘ä̶̹͙̳̦̯͍͈̦̲͇̭̯̙̩̟ͯ͆ͦ͛͘͜͡n̷̔͐͂̀̈ͤ̔ͩ͆҉̻̺͈̖̖̗͇͇͙̹̫̰͝d̴͓͓̖̻̙̜̫̟̝̤̤̠̩̪̣̳̩̿̏͒̈́́̎ͪ͐ͫ͊̇͝ͅ ̎ͬͤͯͨͬ̿̀ͨ͏̷̵̶͉̯͕̥̻̺̜̰͖̥̩̳͓̲e̵̵̺̩̗̪͓̟͇̣̣̫̺̲͎͍̟͊ͧ̓͂ͭ͌͒ͨ͌ͯͨ͜cͣ̂̅͗ͮͨ̉̚̕҉̶͍̹̭̲̺̣͜͡h̡̝̩̥̰͙̟͚̳̯͓͕̼̘͈̯̳͖ͪ̋ͭ́̚͜͜͝ͅo̶̢̩̹̻̬̱ͬ͊̍̏̾̅̿̃ͩ͂̌̃ͮͩͤ̽̐̏͟͞ ̶̧̲̘͈͉͇̬͎̠͙͎͙͍̜̪̜͈̊̏ͨ͆͘͞ḁ̸̶̡̮͙̲̩̗͈͇͉͙̫̻̖͕̞̭͓̽̾̾͛ͯ͐̔̂ͨͩ͗͆͡n̶̶̴̢͔͈̹̰͉̣̗͖͕̞̳̩̦̍̈́͌ͭ̈́̊͌̇͟ḑ̸̡̜͔̠̩̮̙̿̆ͭͯ͐̈̑̂̌̋̍̑̈   
  
How long have I been here?   
  
O͔͇͓̺̲͔r̻͙̻͈̙̳̭,̹̝̘̜͎̳ ͅpe̹r̘̬̺̖ha̲̲ͅͅps̬,̙͖ ̯͇t͍̪͇̮̘̤h͓͈̳e uḻ͔t͙iͅm̫̳͈̩͇̦a̱t̘͕̬̱̝͚e̗̝̠͍ͅ ̮̬͔͇d̤͚͕̬e͓͙șc̮͕̮̬̥ͅr͕̠̬̝̱̬i͔p̳̩̙͉t̞͇̥̼̖͓i̺̪̥̗o͖͈͕n͈̣ ̲ͅo̫̭͈͇̜̪̜f̤ ̭̫͚̭̺̫͖n̰o̻̰̟t̮̝͚͔̻͇h̲̻̦̹̟̪͙i̟̭n̲g̩n̥es̯s͕ ̫i̪̥s͓͙̙͉̲̹ ̬̪͍͎̞ͅth̰̗̭e̮̯̟͎̫ ͎̮̯͔̺͓l̞̲̫̪̻a̙̱ck̹͈͎͉̦̟ ͖̯̠̱̖̱̦o̭̮͚̮f̬̭̲̜͈̦ͅ ̩̰͔ͅs̖̳͕͓̼͈el̳f̙ͅ.̥̜͎ ̗̠T̗̣̘̠̞̱h̠̭͍͓e͓̘͇ l̤̩a͕̯c̗̣͚k̲̤̻̬̭ ̰̩̭̰o̯͚͙f̣ ͙̰̬̯̙̦̖e̞̞̹͖̥̠̘ve͙͚͕n͍̝͍̘ͅ ̣͓t͎h͍̝͇͖͇̠e̙ ̯͕͚̤͖̙̰m͕̜̹͉̥̜̹os̩t͓ ̳͉͙̜ͅba͚̮͓͖s͙̹͔̪̝ic͖̹̟͔̝̘͙ ̫̗̱̞̗̺o̦̳̠͓f͙͕ ͚̝̬ṯh͖̹o͇̱ug͇h̖t͔s̯̖̹ ̮̬ͅo͚r̩̲ ̱͔͚̫̙s͓e͕̫̥͍̞̳̣n͈s͈͎͓̪̳̯e ̹̠͔͙͚ͅo̺̫͕̫f̻͙̲͓̣ ̖̗c̣̣̦ͅo͖̫̥͈̮̪nș̣͓͖̜͈c͔͍̬̜͓i͎̠̥̹̲̹ous͇̙̘n̤̝͈e̜̦͖͕͇̲̺s̺̣͖s͉͉.̭̩͍̺̫ ̮̰͉̱̰T̜̰̬̞̱̼ͅh͓̥̦͔̻͇e͖͔̖̗̝ͅ ͈l̲̗̹̼͎͎ͅa̤̙̦̼̭̣c̲̜̟̬̱k̞͕ ͓͓̪͎o̺f̱̗̝̬ ̳a͚̞̥n͍͎͓̺y̹̦̦t̘hi͙̮̝͈̦̪ͅn͕̖̻͖͓g̥̪̼̮̝̦ ̖t̯̻͍͙̗h̟͙̙̲̥͇ḁț̠̼̮ ̟̲̜̳c̥̖̜̱̙̱o̲̪͎̞̣͚u̳̝ͅl̻̲̟̙̬̹̫d̝̥̲̤ ̫̘̲̙̺g̝iv̮̳̲̺̞̦eͅ me̪̭̰̳ͅa̩̭͓n̜i̙̺n̼̩g ͕̯̻̰͎o̯̱̯͇r̮ ̣̗̬͚c͇̲͖o̤̘͎͍͕̗̼ṉt͈͎̲̘͖̭e̱͍͇̜̠ͅxt̼͇̖͍̼ ͖t̲͎̗̹͙o̱ ̝͙̬̮̫a͚n͖̠̞̩̦͙͖y͖̬̞ ͚̦̺̜̘͈o̯t̝͓̹h͓̪̺̲͔er̮̦͇̟ t̝̹̩͕ẖ̱̟͓̱̲i̲͖̦̘̰ͅn̬͔̤g̬̺͈͖̞.̯̰̤̥̭   
  
That didn’t seem right either. Mituna reached out to try to sense what was around him. The Deep Felt had never been like this before. It was _raw_ in a way that was difficult to describe. Somehow both more and less substantial than it normally was. Somehow both more and less real.   
  
He could not avoid it. It was right in front of his eyes.   
  
**T͍͍̭͔͈̉̀̌h̡̟̲̳̩͂̈̏̚e̻̠͉̥̜̲͊ͭ́ͥͬ͛͊ ͓̳̥̩͂̓Ǫ̰̳͔͖͕̝͉ͬb̮̜̖̭͍͙͒s̮̗͡i̛d̼i͍̲̝͛̐̒͗ͣ̊̋ậ̵̥̝̮͎͗n̥̖ͨͬ ͇͉͕͈̻̺̃ͣ͂ͭ̓͒̌ͅS͊̌̾͑͗̑p̦̻̥̓ͪ͂͑ͅi̳̤͓͉͈r͚̣͙͖̳̫̼͢é͕̋ͤͯ̉͆̚**   
  
Pr̷͉͚̬a̞͉͉̟͘i̻̭̮̱s̜e͠ ̣̰̪͓͙͙͡b̙̩͔̮e͓͎̼̫̻͉͇ ͈͓̩̪͢t̺̯͇̪͎̯̖͠o̸͎̠ h̯̰̭̞̗̰͜ͅe̥̯̰ ̛̰͕w̶̤̟ḫ̫͕̙̙͔o̝̼̲̥ͅ ̦͓͚̞͔̜w̵̘e̷̬̰̘̺̞a͙̟r͈̰̮̩̭̜̠s̴̜͓ ̙̝̤t͏̰̲̺̜̬h͔̮̲e̳̟̲͔ ̷͍m͈̝͚a͎̤͈s̤͙͠k̙̮͞!̭ ̟̠͉͎̩̦̝͝W̮h͇̦͉o̕ ̹̯s̶i̖̙͈̲̰t̸̙̺̗̲͍̖̜s̴͚͙̦̠ u̡p̤͍͈͎̱̭̩͡o̡͕̮̠͍̹̙̫n҉͈͔̖͙ͅ ̳̤͕̞͝t͍̝̻̮̦ḫ̖̣e̺ ͍̹̫͈͚͎̮͜t̷͔͚͕̻̦̳̮h̰r̢͚͕o҉̘̝̲ͅn̯̼̫̤̬͚̹̕e͎͎̜̺͞!̟̭͇̣͢ ҉̱̮̯̮̟̗W̛̫̰̥̰̣h̘̺̠̦o̟ ͕͓̜̳͇̪͘w̮e͈̭̝̭̟a̵̦̫̩̲̰͔ͅr͔͙̜̱̪̘ͅs̪̳͉̹̭̟̟ ̺̦̝̠t̙̗̰͙h̖̙̜̙͍͇̱̕e͍͙͈ ̲̙͉̣t͈̝͙͇͢a͜t̳̳̰̲̞t̯͕̥̲̞̙͡e̶̟͈͇̻r̦e̘͎͍̬͘ͅd͉̟̣̰̭̭̝ ̳͍̝̮͓̜͟r̞̮a̰̜̺̘̜̠͘i̭͖̹̠̰̪̝mͅe̮͓n͍̱̺̗t̼s̭͍̹͎͍ ̦o̰̟̗̳̤f ̙̹̬t̨h̨̩͔̺e͈͇͔̲̙͙͢ ͉͚̹̥̜͜s͎̗͎̝̠̱t̜̺̦ͅa̸͇̯̟͉t͖̠̼i̮̝͕̰̻o̮̙̼̞͘n̬͉̦͖̰͝ ̤͚̹̤̩hi̻̺̠̲̬̗g̻̱̜̝̲h̹e̛̗͓͔̳͉ͅs̬t̪͔̘̮ ̵̼i̤̹̥̜͢n̪͎̼̙̞̖ t̡͉h̥̣̠̩͖̠e͕̗ ̛͎͎͕ḽ̫͖̺̪̠̻a҉n̠̬̦̣̭͎͚d͟! ̢̺Ẉh̯̣͈̬͝o̙͈̬̻̹ͅ ̹͍̜s̬̦̲͚i̸t̸̪͉͉͇s͖ ͚͇̫̥̯̠͓a͇͎͈͕̹͎̕b̗o̺̤v̱͉̙e͓̘̞̬ͅ ̟̩͙̗̤͖͚t̢͉h͇͔e̷̲ ̪̘̱l̮̗͓̮̣͡ą͍̱̣k҉͓e̺̮͔̼̺̪̜͟ a̞̺̜̖̪̝ͅn̖͈͖̭͚d̴̬̻͔ ͉w̝̞̥͡a̝̣͇̭̖̘̪t̨͚̳͕̮̙͔ch̜e̛͎̗͖̘͓s̡͉͓̜͚ ̗̩̲͚̘̳o̧̝͔̰v̙̩̣̲̖͈er̩ ̷̮̣a̼̬̯̞̱l̶̥̣l͙̣̜͡!̷͇͙̯̦̤̟̻  
  
Pr̳̮̠̦̥̲ͅa̧̯̝̯̰̣i͎̼͓s̠͖̠e̴͓ ͙̰͔͍͕ͅt͕̘͞ơ t̮̰̤h͙̗̭ͅe ͙̪͕͉̼ͅK͇͉̫̩̻̹ͅi͍̗̣͍̫̝͝ṉ̲͉͖̖͢ͅg̥͖̼!͝ ̖͞T͎̳̥͢ẖ̨̠̜̼̥̟̥e͏̜͎͔̣̩̲ͅ ͓͍̦͕̠̪̫K͈̱̜͙i̸͇͉͍n̢̞̩̯̰͙̲g̗̮̘ ̴̲̩͔̭͈i͕̹̺͍n̪ ̪̥͚̰͓ͅY̜̺͔̗͕͝e͎̺̗͖ḻ̻̼̼̮͟l̹ơw҉̦͎͎̮̯̺!͏͈͎̞͎͚̙̙ ̧Ţ̜͔̺͚he̯̤̟̦͉͠ ̢̰̘̼͚̺f̫į̥̜̟r͕̝̙̫s̺̩͈̬t͓͇͖ ͡t͎̤̲̻̬̝ͅo̵͈ ̬̫̳w̶͔e̦͕̼̼͚ͅa̝͇r ̞͖̳t̴̠͙h͈̲̞ͅe̦͖̞̜͎͔̤ p͈͈͖͍a͇͎̜̝l͍̙͎͉̟̯̠l̨̺̫̝i̶̟͙̖d̤̺͇͉̙ͅ ̴̣̬m̞̗̻a͓s̱̺̙͚̞k!̝̞̣͙͓̳̲   
  
This isn’t right!   
  
Impossibly vast, yet impossible to even perceive inside the eye of his mind. A thing that existed beyond comprehension – that made his head hurt to try to conceptualize.   
  
The name wasn’t a coincidence. Spire.   
  
They had seen this place. They had come here once, and they had gazed upon the tower made of a black stone that no Alternian eyes had ever seen before. Something that existed only in the spaces in between spaces.   
  
  
―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――  
  
Mituna struggled to keep his mind centered. Everything was blurred and his sense of time was completely lost. That was dangerous inside the Deep Felt. Y̖̪̲̬̤̲͇o͚ͅu҉̹̖ ̠bḙ̼̬͙̠̱͡c̸a̵m̼̜e͠ͅ ̟̼͕͚͙̺̺l̖̣̟͔o̖̹͉͍͡s͍t̜͙ ̤̺̪i̢̤̤͖̭n̯͙̹̩͎̬ ̯i̶͎͈̟̘t͎̰͠ ̲̤̣͕̜͡ͅͅ–̺̙͈̜̹̳ ̬̹y̜̳̮̻o̘̞̪̼ͅu̘͈̠͚͇̗̯ ̤͟b͙̹e̖g͈a͇̯͕̦͚̝͇ṉ̱̞͈̲ ͠t̥̝̫̟̯o͕̪̘̼͜ ͖̦u̖̺̟̭͕̥͝n̯̥l̴̙̬͈͉̳̫̜o͎a͈͍̠̫̜͓̫ḓ̡̪̣ ̲͔̺̯͝y̥̹o̡̤̤̝̘̖u̱͍͚̺̘ͅr͚̫̩͕̪̕ ̯̝͎͚e̵͕͍͙ṉͅt̴̮̺̣̪̯i̮̪͖̪̙r̶̝̳̳̭ͅe͚͖̦ ̻̞̦s͖̟̹̹̼̥̗͡e̤̟̬l̢̮̦̱̲͎̩̦f̥͚͍͡ ̲̱̳a̛n͔͡d̠͇͉ ̜̯̳t̪̰͉̭̣̫h͔͉̺̲̜͝e̢̩̳͍̥̹̰n̵̘̯̯͓͎̳ ͏b̻̼͙̝̬͍a̹̬d̥͍͖̱̠ͅ ͖͕̣t̬̭̥ͅh̛̦i͓͓̳̮͕̞n̟̘g̬͎̰̮̼s͓̠̤ h̶̪̪̮̲̖̪̯a̸p̵̲̩p̜͇͇̫̘̖̲̕e̱͕͉ͅn͇̼̦̩̬̙̳͡e̜͕͉̹̥ͅd̘ ̮͖ͅt̡o̪̣ ͏y̩̝͕̟̱͖o̪̘̬̣͉̪͔u̝͉   
  
MC > WH03V3R'5 0U7 7H3R3... 1'M 50RRY   
MC > 1 D0N'7 KN0W H0W L0NG 1'V3 833N H3R3   
  
He pressed himself forward – the closest to forward he could figure – and spread his concentration. Somewhere nearby, the kinetic defense platform was orbiting the moon.   
  
S̿̅̈̐ͫ̈́͒o̎ͥ͂̓́̚m̵̈͊ͦ̿̉ͯe̊͋͂͟w̡̓͒̋̇̂̚h͆̋̆̂̄̏eͯ̋̆̆͋҉rͬẽ̛̊͒̌ ͮ͗͊̿̑ͥįn̔̉ͩͤͩ̊̇s̛ͤ̎͒̉ͣi̴ͤͣͯ̇̓ͦdͨ̉ͤ͗͑ͫë̐̏,́̊ͥ ͒́tͪͥ̏h̨͋̽̎ͩͤ̇͂e̊͂ͨ̿̏̐ ͣ̀ͤ͗ͨ̇͂͠Ob͒͑ͫͮ̑͒ṡ̄͗ͩͫ̈́i̿̏̆͋͐̾ͬ̕diͯaͫ͢n̅́ͪ̿̿ͪ ̷̔̾Sͫ̈̀̽ͯ͝p̔̍i̢ͧ̌ͯͮ̎̔ͥr͢e̓ ̓͌̔̅͘c̔̉ͫ͛͏aͨ̐ͭ̂ͣ͛ͣl̒̿̚l̸̐ͫ̂ê̴̈́̌̒̓d̈҉ ͧͮ͠t̓̎̎̚̚o̾̓ͯͪ͂̈́ͭ͞ ̡ͥh̆ͪ͒ͬiͣ̊̓m̾ͥͨ.̀ͯͥͫ   
  
Scratch was waiting. He was busy right now – fighting on so many different fronts and tracking the progress of those who had professed loyalty to him. But it wouldn’t be long – if Mituna made a wrong step, then Scratch would see him.   
  
I’ll be one with the Spire someday…   
  
The moon was a dark spot in his mind that he couldn’t turn away from. Everything flowed toward its center, and at its center there was Scratch. But it wasn’t Scratch – the thing had a name but no one knew what it was. Mituna was afraid of the name.   
  
  
The name was **Ąͩͫ̔̎͂̃̆̄͌͗̇̈́ͮͨ̎ͦ͑͂̎̕͏̢̬̤̲̠+̴̣̰̙͍͔̲̗̠̮̜͎̹̯͙̙̮̘̳̎̒͌ͦ̿̽̉̉̌̂ͮ͊͘͢͡)̨͙̻͈̞͕̝̝̺̭̲̘͙̏ͫͤ́͂ͭͪͨͬ͑̉̉̎̽̚7̨̢͖̜͕̗̮̆̀̐̀̔̄ͫ̂͒̍̿ͫ̚͢͢rͮͥ̍̐̍͆͞͏͚͓̩̣̭͕͔̣̻̬̙̬̖̠͕̰̤J͆̽͛ͤͤ͂͋͑͐̂ͭ͂͏̵̧̛̰̝̣͚̬̳G̫̟͍̬̲͕ͦ͌͂̂̽̑̈́ͧ̑́̑̓͗͛̂͌̍̈͜͠ͅ.̡̨̦̜̯͕̥̗ͥ́̒̾ͫͫ̔͋̔̀͊͊͂̉ͫ̚͢͟ͅyͣͤ͋̍͛̿͟͏̧̜̻̮̲̮͙̩̩̙͔̹̫/̀ͭ͛͂̒ͮ҉̛̛͉͚͇͇͇̮̹̗͍͓̳̻?̵̷̿͊͐̒̅̐̅͗͛ͦ̔̃͆͡͏̫̣͕̠̰͚̲͈̭̘̰_̑ͭ̌̀͗̑ͤͥ̔̉̃ͦͭͤ̅̚͟͠͝͏̨͇̙͓̙̯̻̪y̷͈̺̺̜͖̥͎̣̣̪̗̤̙͓̭͙ͨ̇̓̏̓ͤ̋͞ͅ6̧̨̛͉̙̥̪̲̙̔̔̉̋̐͆ͬ͛͂́͊ͫ͞`̴̾͆ͮ̏̊̇͑ͫ̓͋͒̋ͬ̎̍ͧͩ̚͏͏̳͖̫̬͕̪**  
  
His head hurt more and more   
  
H̬̣͔̫̙͑̍ͭ͋i̲̬̞̣͎̯͂͆ͪ̽̔ͅs̺̏͊ ̴͕̏́eͥ͝ý̘̮ͬe̪̜̗̣͖͂s̯̥̻̯̬ͪ̂͝ ͕̜͉̗̦̌͗ͭ̅ͥb͐ͯ̏ͭ̏̀̏҉̘͚u͈̙̟̹̤͕̹͐̇̒ͮ̈́͡r̤ͣn̟̼͐̌̑̏ͯ͑̚ȇ̗͓͍̮̖̓̒̓d̲͖̖̙̺̪̜ͩ͒͌ͬ̈́̀ ̑̿͐̋͡i͞n̘͈͚͍̘̒ͥ ̶͉̗̅̆͛ͯ̅̂͒ţ̗̩̈ḧ̥́̽̄ͭ̅͠ė̜̖ͬ͌̊̋ͤ͠i͗r̮̼̤̬͇̺̺͛ͣ̿̇ͬ͊ ̦͌͒́ͧ̚s̹ͮ͒ͩ̎̌ͦŏ̼̪̳̔ͯc̟̠ͬ͌̃̏͑k̥͖̬̤̝̝̦ͦ̑̐ͣ͐̚͘e̦ͬͯ̓͜t̼̩̗̮͊͋̃s͎̠̗̩̗̘̣̀͛̐ͫ̄̎͗   
  
He found himself drawn in two directions at once. One part of him wanted to flow away from the Obsidian at the center of it all. There was a small shining beacon of light and hope floating around the B̴̭̈́ͭ͒lͯ̚҉͈ȧ̢̬̞̱̏̏ͮc̫̓ͅḵͪ̚͘ ͓̜̫̲̱̤̝̎ͪ͌̚M̖̮͈̱̠̬ͫȏ̞ͮ̈͘o͍͔̰ͬ̋ͫͨ̋́̌ṋ͚͖̠̗͔͛͌. The kinetic cannon was out there. Scratch had overlooked it – maybe not realizing its potential or maybe he was trying to do too much at once. He wasn’t a god.   
  
The other part wanted to flow down into the center of the moon. To face Scratch and finally see what he really was. To experience the pure joy of complete and utter destruction. Ḫ̗̒ͅe̜̱̥͆̅͢ ̦̟͖̻̣ͫ͡w͍̙̄͐͆͐ăͩͯ͠s͋͆̽̓͊ ̷̝̱̺̩̓̑̂̅ͅā͓̭̽̄ ͦ̑ͤg̡̱͍̥͂͗̓ͥo͚̥̮͇d̲̙̙̱̪.̬   
  
MC > 1F Y0U'R3 5331NG 7H15   
MC > 1'M G01NG 70 7RY 70 C0NN3C7 70 7H3 5473LL173   
MC > D͕̦̭̲͖0͏͈͙̺̝̭͍ͅN̨'̵͈͚7̜ ̫͙̖K̭̤̼̱̗̬̘N͔̝͝0̬̙͞W̞̬͉̬͉̪ ̸H͙͖̼͕̺̫̤͘0͟W̛͇͉̻̮̘͖ ̯̦̤̟̥͝MU͖̠͢C͝H͔̤̮̗̣̕ ͈͔L̥͇̝̣͈̰̱͟0N̩̰͠G̛̰͚͖̟ͅ3R͎͕͕̭ ̢̬̬̪͉̤̯̦1̺̳̭͕̹̻͚ ̱̯͎Cͅ4͈͎͖͓͍̻̫N͔̘͡ H͚͇̱̙̟̠̞͠0̦L͖̙D͍ ̫̬̻͇͕̳0N7̣̣̥0̣͍̠ ҉̯͇̘7͈͓̺͔H̨̞̣̯͓͇1̷̗̼̦̭̺5͇̯̝̼͔͇̝   
| CONNECT   
IN THE DEPTHS WE ALL KNOW   
CONNECTING TO BLACK MOON FAILSAFE   
  
T̰͚̞̜̤̥͚͖͍͙̳̰̘̱͉̦̝h̭̥̘̥̣̗̺̣e̱̲̞̩̞̭̯ ̮̥̝͔̠̼͇͓̻ẉ̥̹̮͈͖̜̙̰̞o̠͖̲̥͖̦̪͙̤r̳͖̙͚̙̻l̲̯̝̞̫̯͍͕̹͓͈̝̖͖̫ͅd̤̺͇͕̼͚̜͍̝͚̞̬̖̮̩̫ͅ ͙̣͖̦͍͓̟̙͚̻͇̟̤a͔̺̬̬r͖̩͍o͓̱̲͔̲͕̜̥͖u͚̮̼̟͇̫͚̠̟͍̼̦̯̦ͅn̦̺͙̬̟͕d̻̣̮̙͚̠͙͇̖̹̦̮̗͕̘̘̗̹ͅ ̣̪̩̼̱̞̝͔̩̠͙͎̻h̖̳̩̼̮̣͍͓̱i̪̰̻m͔͓̱̤̲̪̝̲̩̲̟̻͔̠̹͉ͅͅ ̦͍̯̦̩̤̹̤̮̹̲̝̲̘̻̘ͅb̗͚͙̻̠e̖̘͈͍̤̝̩͎̘̙c̪͍̳͔͎̤̫̠̟̮̝͙̗͔͙͙̟a̦͚̯̙͍̺̙͍̤̹͔͚̝̹͕̯͕m̲͓̹̪̯̤̩̖͔͓̱̪̩̬̱e̫̺͙̜͙ͅ ̟͉̝̼͔̦͈͕͍̦̱̞͈͉̹̰d͉̬̻̦̰͚̝̙͔͉̜͔̤̜̫͕͍i̖͖̭͚͎̣̤̭m̻͍̰̟̭̺̮͔̪̠̜ ͎̜̠͍͔̫̣͙͎͎̗͍̠a͚̟̮̱͔͍͚̙̙̭̜͈̭͎͎̰̞ṇ̖̘̭̮̪̭͇̹̠̼̲͎̬d̪̱͓̱̳̳̺͕̲̫̪̱̥͖̪̬͇̲ͅ ̗͔̟̭̹̰e͖̖̯͔̝̦̙͉̠͇̻͔̝̣̣͔̱ͅv̙͓͔̹̻̱e͕̭̘͓͈̬̙̤ṛ͉̩͖̜͍̣͙̖̜̤͔͇͕̣̙ͅy͖̜͈̼͔͚̮̘̣̮̰̯̘͎t̗̻̯̣ͅh̗̺̯̞̺̤͍̳̠͕̝̘̤̰̘̩̗͇i̯̗̺̲̖̮̤͍͕͓͈n̬̥͇̼̱̖̤̩͎̹g̩̯̫̮̭̺̪̼̣̲̳̜͇͓̠̙ ̩̹̬̖͕̝̟͕͈͕w͙̜̭͈͚̲͚͍͚̹͓̣ͅa͙̠͙̥̺s̗͙͈̳̖͕̙̞̭̟ ̤̲̣̤̮͚̩̰͙̺̦̗̣͉̬f̭͕͓̯̩̣̞̖̮̹̮̙͖͔̯̘ị̭͙͕͍̗̣͕̙̲̬͕̮͇̱̲͎n̦͖̮̞̼͔e͙̠̳͚̠̥̝̰̬̝̻̜͍͚   
  
  
  
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INT – HOUSEHOLD KITCHEN   
  
The kitchen is themed in 1950s styling with typical retro kitsch decor. A long island counter is in the middle. At the counter stands LATULA PYROPE who is in the process of making breakfast. KURLOZ MAKARA and MEULIN LEIJON are sitting at the counter as well, eating from bowls of cereal.   
  
[MITUNA CAPTOR enters from stage left.]   
  
[Audience applause]   
  
MITUNA: Honey, I can’t decide which tie I want to wear!   
[he holds up two ties, one red and one blue]   
  
LATULA: Why not just wear both?   
[she winks toward the audience]   
[Audience laughter]   
  
MITUNA: Fine, I’ll just ask these two goofs instead.   
[Turns to address Kurloz and Meulin]   
  
MITUNA: I have this big interview today and you two need to help me out!   
  
KURLOZ: I don’t think we do.   
[Sulks]   
  
MEULIN: Help me out more like help MEOW-t, am I right?   
[She winks towards the audience]   
[͝E̴xag̶gerate͘d̕ ̛aưdie͟nc͞e ̕l̸a͝u͟ght̢er͡,̵ ͞ri͜s̡in̸g in̛ vo̕lu͘m̨e̴]͢   
  
MITUNA: Forget it, I knew you two would be any help.   
MITUNA: Now I’ll never get the big job at Ms. Aranea’s legal firm.   
  
LATULA: Oh, honey, d̙͖͎̹̫ơ̖͓̣n̞̜’̼͙͇ͅt̘̪͕̻ ͉̰͈͈̯y̢̲̰̫̘͇ͅͅo̢͉̯̹̩̗̬ų̝̦̮̩̰̩ ͎k̞̙̰͙͙͕͟n̰͉͔o̖͓w̯̲̭̙ ̰͚A̠̥̪̻̜r̛̭͉͔̳̖a͔̫̳͎n̵̻̙̮͉̤̤̦e͍͓͟a̷̻̦͎̺̭̮͇’̜͇̮͎͚̝s̨ ̛͔̞̺̺d̖͇̮̦͙͈͜e̷̲͉̼̹̺a͉͙̼̰̮̜͚d̠̜͠?   
[She winks to the audience]   
[̨A̷̺̖̣ų̝͈̤̦̘͉d̩̲̙̙͕̥i͓̦̺͉̹e̦̩̺ṋ̰͉͕̲̹̜c̹̯̰̰̺̜e̦̘͈͙̹͉̠ ͚̻͕̣̻̮͠l̜̣a̼͟u̷g̱̙̫̲̹̬h̳͔͞s̺̜̟̖͠]̥͕   
  
MEULIN: Dead? Just purrfect!   
[She frowns]   
  
KURLOZ: What is it now?   
  
MEULIN: She said she’d get me an interview with Old Man S̙̜͙̹͓̗̘͓̗̣̘͓̤̞̼̫̋̃͊̾͆ͬ͐͗̂̍̍͒̽͊ͫ̕͡c̷̘̼̥͙̲̬̻͍͉͎̺̥̞͓̈́̇̈̔̔ͤ́ͭ̑ͥͩ̌̐̓̽͒ͩͅr̽̿̾̉ͣͥ̔̑́͋͛͐͌̏ͪ͏̶̧̨̮̳̫̫̫̲͕̦̪͓̦̲̘̲̘͞a̵̵̸͕̼̱̲͓͇̫͉̻̹̬̜̲͔͉͖̹̟̹̅͆ͤ͢ť̴̢̡̺̬̱̞͖̩̟͛ͥ̏̐̽̄͆̄̎ͅc̵̈́ͥͧ̈̂ͤ̔ͫͬ͊̂̔ͫͧ̅̍͠͝҉̥̩̙̦͕̟̩̪̳͈͚̞̠̱̳̝̤ͅh̵̝̩̤̜͈͚̳̮͓̦ͨ̽̊̄̐̇͗͛̔̍ͧ̾̓͛́   
[She frowns and pokes at her cereal with the spoon]   
  
LATULA: Oh, kitty, you’ll be fine. Old Man S̢̛̹̥̟̞̯̤͙̩͑̑͒̿̀ͬ͜c̵̡͖̲̬͈͚̟͉̳̺̬̻͔͉̰̞ͧ̾̏ͨ̌̋̏̈́̿ͤ̋́̈͟͡r̛ͭ̑̊̄͆̋̐ͯ̓̑́̓͟͞҉̩̙̙̪̩͎͔͈ā̶̵͎̣̯̦̝̤̼̪̪̙̱̫̤͓̗̆ͩ͗̉̉̕ͅţ̴̖̰̻̬̿ͥ̌ͭ̈́̌̏̀ͬ̎̃ç̨̪̤̪̺̱̦̦̰͓̗̖̺͉̫͇͔̪ͪ͐̈̂̔̾̈́ͩ́̕͡h̶͙̪̲̖̺͇͉̫͉̦͔̠̝̰̲͍̅̏͌͗ͬ̇͋͗ͫ̒̾̽ͦ͝͠ is always hiring   
[She smiles at Meulin]   
  
[Meulin smiles back]   
MEULIN: You know what? You’re right!   
  
KURLOZ: As if anyone would hire a ä̠̘͉̗͓̘̖̽ͥʾ̻̙̟̔̾ͫ͌ͩ̃͒̾̂Ҫ̣͚͕ͭ̅͠ж̶͉͇̫̪͕̾̆ͪ̀͑̋؞͖̙͉͓̓͌͝܂̾̍͊ͩ̓̓ͥ̔͠͏͔ͅ΅̷̖͖̳͈̘̲̟̣̤̯̜̣̬͛̈́̏ͦ͌ͩͬ֟̂̓ͮ̀̂ͦͦ̚̕ like you in the first place!   
  
[Audience boos]   
  
LATULA: Kurloz Phillip Makara you take that back right now!   
  
MITUNA: It’s not nice to call people unknowable names like that.   
[Mituna blinks and looks around, as if confused by what is happening]   
  
[Kurloz stands up]   
  
KURLOZ: Most uncool, my brother. I’m done with this.   
[He storms off and exits stage right]   
  
MITUNA: What was that about?   
[Mituna is still confused]   
  
LATULA: You know how he is – always up to something silly!   
[She laughs]   
[͚̮̖̪̂͢A̶̫͔̬ͦu̲͉͚͓͔̪̕d̻̟̰͓̟͍͒̀ͅĭ͓̩̖̰̌ḛͥ̋͗ͪn̸̾ͫ̓̋c̨̗͓ͦ̌e̙͈̘̯̟̫ͯ̓̌̊ ̗͇͈̻̰͐̑̏lͣ̔̇a͇̱̼̯͎̐̓̆͒͐ͭ͠ụ̼͔̦̜̼̤͋̽̐ͥ̚ǵ͙̀̅͂̑hs͋ͤ͘]̰̥̜̖̣̐   
  
[DAMARA MEGIDO enters from stage right, turning back to look at something off to stage right as she does so]   
  
[Damara is dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Her hair is slicked back and she has an unlit cigarette in her mouth.]   
  
DAMARA: What’s his deal?   
  
LATULA: Oh my god! Damara!   
[She runs over to Damara and they embrace]   
  
MITUNA: Hey, I told you about having those cancer sticks in my house!   
[Why would I care about that? What’s happening?]   
  
[Damara takes the cigarette from her mouth and flicks it onto the counter. She then kisses Latula.]   
[Audience Ooooooo’s]   
  
DAMARA: That better, Mr. Captor?   
  
[What the fuck?]   
  
[Mituna glares]   
MITUNA: Still the same as ever, huh?   
  
[Meulin finishes her cereal and pushes the bowl back]   
MEULIN: Well I’m meow-t.   
  
MITUNA: You already used that pun.   
  
MEULIN: uWu   
[Meulin winks at the audience]   
[Audience laughs]   
[Meulin exits stage right]   
  
LATULA: Look, Mituna, we need to talk about something.   
[She takes a step toward Mituna.]   
  
[̪̫̰͔͈ͅW̫͚̫̕e͏̲̝̮̠̝ ̠̲̬̲aḷ͎͙͜r͚e̗a̸̰̳̱̹͔̦̳d͈͎͙͓͙͈͟y̛̝͕͍̤ ͖̗͈̝̮̼d̸̥̬̻̟̲i̹͓̳̠̼ḑ͖̩̩͚͙̝ ̛t͚͕̯̫h͏͔̙i̸͇͈s̘͖̻]   
  
LATULA: I should’ve told you earlier   
  
MITUNA: Told me what?   
  
[She reaches back and grabs Damara’s hand]   
  
LATULA: Damara and I we’re… we’ve been seeing each other.   
[Audience gasps]   
  
MITUNA: You… _what?!_   
  
DAMARA: It’s true, daddy-o! W̻̣̦̥̣̲͉ę̲̖’̝̝̱̠̩͡ͅv̯̹̩e̼̠͖̖͞ ̴̙̘͖̟̻̱b̧͍e͙͕̮e̯̩̦̬̲͇͈n͕͉̣̟͡ ̵̱͇͖̹̦̙̥d͏̳o̢̹i̯̜n̵͈̹͖̩̠̺̪g̻͓̬̕ ̫t̲̙h̬ḛ ̝̹̯͉̜͟h͚̜o͓r̸̩̹̲̮̱̩̗i̯̩z͓o͔̤̖̭̖͔̭n̟̬͈t̘̜̼̼̱͢ͅa͠l̵ ̹̭̜̹͙̣̕h͍̺͖͙o͖̬͉̥̦̱̘k͍̬̮͓e̡̘͔̩̘̼y̺͕̩̩̰ p̬o͕̫k̺̦̤̠e̘y̥̹͡ ̼̞͙̤͉w̛͍̟i̬̦͓ͅt̢̘͙h̺̬̳̼o̼u̮̫͕͕̯t̫͇͢ ̢̲̦e̛̥̭̫̺̮v̙͈͚̫̞̗̖ęn ̗͈̥̗ţ̭̱͍̯e̮̙̳̜l̳l͉̟̠̬̘͖i̘͕ͅn͕̯͝g ̳̫ỵ̛̜̩̬ͅͅo̱̱̹u̗̫̜̱ ͍̯̟͘ͅf̢̫̖̠͕ͅor̜ ̘̣̺̝̲̘͟th͔̝̫̭͍e͏͚̙͈̠̖ ̗̙̣̤̻ͅp̮̬̝̞͜ͅa͙̜̣͇̳͢ͅs̘̘̳̹̝t̩͎̝ ̱̬͈͈͢ye̻͢ąr҉̙̰̣.͖   
  
[What the fuck is a year?]   
  
MITUNA: Ooo! I knew something was up!   
[He shakes his fist in the air]   
  
DAMARA & LATULA: We’re sorry!   
  
[Damara turns to the audience]   
(Stage whisper) DAMARA: I’m not!   
[She winks at the audience]   
  
LATULA: We need to go find Kurloz and Meulin now.   
LATULA: They’re in a lot of trouble.   
  
LATULA: **ҭ̳̻̪̜ͭޙ͚̹͚̀̐̊̉͛ͣş̬̦͉̄̆ͩͤͣ͟Ѣ̣̥͛͛ͤ̎ͣ̎ͤʞׁ̖̲̮̞̤͓̗͈ͩ́͐ͨ͢ͅћ̹̥̂̂͜ٻ̶̬̫͙̆̅̋́Ɯ̩̦̟͕͙̀͋̾Ȗ͖̻̰̱͇̖̘̫̏͛͒̓ͪ̓͆̚޸̷̙̠̮̪̞̈́̾͂̇ͯ̃́Ʀ̷̺Ѻ̻̮̲̙̯̇ͯͮ̋̿ͪͭ** is going to hurt them.   
  
[Latula and Damara exit stage right]   
  
[What’s happening here?]   
M̷̱̣̪̼͝I̻͕͓̯̪͉̥͇͢͞T̵͎̙ͅṶ̝̤̬͔̺̰̣̬̕N̸̰̣̙̳̯͝A͙͎:̭̝̮̹͘ ̲͕̳͔̮͟͜W̧̨̛̘̻̦̬ḩ̙̙̳͎̖ͅa҉̜̜̬̹͓͔t͈̞͇͙̜͙͙͟’̴̝̞̫̖s̬̗͕ ̬̼̺͈h̶̷̦̼̺̙͟a͚̞͈͈̙̣̙p͔̹̦͖̳͖͖̦p̜̯̦̬̰̳̣̝ͅe̹̝͔̱͎̩̲͟͞n̢̨̟̭̮̳̱i̗̘̖̼͍͟n͇͞g͓̦͔̟͇͔͟͝ ̰̳̗̘͡͝h͏͓̜e̴̮̳̟̺̖̖r̢̢̢͓͉̜̪̰̤̖̼e̺̗͕?͇̞̯͙ͅ   
  
Enter **כٰ̞̹̦̞̠̫̯̘̹̝̉ͫͤ̂͛ˮ͓̮͈͋͑ͩʎ͖͈̈́͊̇̌ϛ͚͙̥ͬ͋ͨ̒۲̵̴̻̘͉͗ͦͩ̊̌̊ͅյ͍̹̹̏̔̾ɻ̵̜̹̑͛ʯ̨̩̹̣̩̦̣̿̈́̑͛̀͠ޞ̳̳̲̜̭̺͋ͯ̐̈́ͧ̋ϕ̋ͭ́͗ͣ͏͓͚̰̳̘͍̩ͅŮ̢̼͈͑̑͋̍̾̋Ӣ̧̡̭̱̗̯͉̬̒Ƶ̛̬͎͕̭͎̱̟̿͐ͣ̿ͦ͘ƚ̢̠̩̭̦̘̒͗̓̇̚͝ͅ** from stage right]   
  
**Ѿ̷̻̩̬̳͙̽̍͊̓ͮ͢Š̶̙͚̝͍͈̞̠͓̓̑̀̂́̉̅ܓ͂ͬ̍̅ͤ̈ͨ҉̲̱̘̹͜ݽ͎̙͎̜̆̅͐̉̾͊̋͆ͅʊ̵̬̗͍̥̥͈̠̒ͪͩ͋͂̐͑͞ˡ̵̨͖͚̟͈̙͉֢̇̍ͭͪ̅ͬ̊̽҉̤͇̣̥̫̲͚͓͓Ә͇̮̫̪͙͓̯̤̹͋ͤ̈́͜͝͡æ̧̨̭̑͌͊̂̆ƈ̈́͂҉̵̵͔̟͖͖̜̒͌̎͞ؼ̽̉͗͞҉̻̪̺͙̳̼ͅϬ̭̭̞̉͒ͤ̕͟ͅ΄̢͇̦̪̫ͩͩͦͭ̋͢͝** : My dear sweet child. How I’ve missed you.   
**ę̴̨̲̮̯̠͎͙ͩ̚ԏ̢̝̲ͣ͆̈͂͊ס͓̣̬̜̳ͣ̌̾ͭ͟Μ̶̌͊̾ͯ͏̫͎̣̦ͅՇ̴̛̛̼̻̤̋̈̔ͤƉ̹̭̙̟͓̩̬̟̰ͥ̉͜э̮̯̣͈̰̩̼̩͗̿ũ̷̘̼͕̳̩̦̫͕̈́̔͗͗̇̓̏̚̕ʳ̪ͦͦ̍͑͌ͥ̚͘ٯ̜͙̫̳̐͒͗̎̃̄ͭ** : I have to admit that you were always my favorite.   
  
  
  
―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――  
  


  
Mituna was in two places.   
  
Floating inside of the B̧̾ͦ͋ͯ̚҉̹͔͇̼̣͇̠͍l̴̩̣̣͚̝͇̠̽̒̉͟a̢͔̤ͬ̆ͮ̋c̨̯̉̃ͥ̑͞͠k̸̩̗̐̾́͐͑ͧ̈̽̎ ̴ͩ̏̈́ͬ̀̄ͥ͏̱̳̯̩͔͙͖̤̟͠M̛͍̹ͮ̌͑̆͊ͤ͋̚o̤̳̰͖͊͒͂̔̂̒ͧ͠o̯̝̼̍̎͝ͅn̨̢̥̰͓͔̤͉͓̼̈́͐͗̋̃̔͟.   
  
  
  
Looking him directly in the face.   
  
As much as he could be said to have a face, anyway.   
  
He smiled. As much as he could be said to smile, anway.   
  
? < My dear boy, it is good to see you again.   
? < I had thought perhaps you were gone from my sight   
Though none are truly gone from my sight.   
  
Mituna’s mind burned. The thing was seeing inside him – into his soul. Everything was laid bare and he wanted to scream.   
  
He couldn’t scream.   
  
I’m sorry, were you trying to say something?   
  
Who are you?   
  
You couldn’t say the name, but you know it already. You’ve heard the sound in your mind.   
  
I’ll just call you Scratch.   
  
That is acceptable, I suppose.   
  
Why do any of this?   
  
Do you suppose that because I am unknown to you that I am completely alien? That I do not have wants and needs the same as any of you?   
  
I guess… I did think that, yeah.   
  
It’s not important. Perhaps inhabiting these corruptible bodies for so long as affected my thought process. Perhaps not. Perhaps… it doesn’t matter.   
  
What do you want from us?   
  
From you? Nothing. You’ve all served your purposes already.   
  
So why haven’t you just killed us?   
  
To what end? You are all so amusing. I wanted to keep you alive, if only for the joy of seeing you all rip each other apart.   
  
So we’re just toys to you?   
  
I suppose you could see it that way.   
It doesn’t matter to me. Frame it however makes you most comfortable.   
  
You’re a bulge-sucking piece of shit.   
  
Sticks and stones will break my bones…   
  
What?   
  
Never mind. It’s an expression from another place. Your experience is so painfully limiting sometimes. Did you know there’s so many versions of you out there?   
  
What the fuck?   
  
Yes! Of you… and your friends. I’ve seen so many distinct possibilities. Yours is only one of so many. It’s actually quite fascinating.   
  
You know what… it doesn’t matter?   
  
And why doesn’t it matter?   
Wait…  **what did you just say to me?!**   


  
  
  


  
Mituna was in two places.   
  
Floating inside the Kinetic Defense Cannon – the small bright spot on the horizon.   
  
Up above the  **O̴̼̗ͩ̐͢͢bͦ́ͤ͏̹̗̱̹̭̖͔̗s̃́̌̊̄̾ͮ͏͚̝͈ȉ̳̝̉̓ͯ͐̃̎̃ͅd̪̺͈̞͖̪̖̓͡i̹̹͎̦̺͈̫͒ͪ͟a̮͓̭̥͚̙̞ͨ͋̅ͭ̈n̜̝̝̝͖̫͓̾ͯ͌ ̹͓͙̘̥̤͊ͧ̃ͩ̍ͥ̐̏͠S̷̬̣̘͙̦̹̾̉̓ͬ̏ͦͅp̞͇͚̠̬͎̠̲̀̒̄̊i̫̗͗̏͢rͭ́͆ͧ́͝͝͏̭̳̥̣͖͔̞̪̟ę̠̫̰͔͊̾͌ͥ̔̏̽̊̔͠**   
  
Mituna reached out, looking for the switches that would light up the darkness. But carefully. There was still the matter of the other thing.   
  
He didn’t let himself dwell too much on it – for some reason, the idea of thinking it… of thinking its name… that would draw too much attention. What he was doing here was secret. What he was doing here would anger that thing.   
  
Mituna put it out of his mind and concentrated on what he was doing. Slowly, he powered up each individual relay. Everything was still working – it had been designed for long-term storage.   
  
Bits and pieces were missing. Blank spots inside of the Deep Felt that came through only as blurred images.   
  
They’d used something that concealed parts of the platform from the Felt itself. Not the ability to interface with it, but maybe the ability to see exactly what it was doing. Because he was watching – it was watching. The unnamable thing.   
  
He wasn’t going to get a second shot at this. The act of being in two places at once like this – of trying to concentrate on two such disparate tasks – it was draining him completely. Even through the haze of the wetware interface, Mituna could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer. Even if he physically could – and he wasn’t sure about that – he was being mentally drained too.   
  
In the back of his mind, there was a swarm of bees buzzing around, and every so often the number decreased. There were fewer and fewer bees moving around. What did that mean?   
  
Mituna smiled to himself – it was such a clever way to do it. Whoever had designed this system had thought ahead. They’d known what it would be up against. It was a simple abstraction, but it worked well enough.   
  
_Half the number of bees._ That was about how many remained. It wasn’t a perfect analog – he would’ve preferred a number – but the abstract symbolism drew less attention from outside.   
  
There wasn’t much else he could do except concentrate on being in both places at once. Keep his mind on the conversation he was having.   
  
  
He didn’t like how everything had gone down.   
  
  
In the end, it hadn’t mattered as much as he’d thought.   
  
  
_Most of the bees were gone now._   
  
He could feel his mind starting to fray – losing grip on what was even real anymore. He’d come unglued for a minute back there. Hopefully it wasn’t too late for everyone else. For all he knew, he could be seconds away from having a slug in the think-pan and then all his problems would just disappear.   
  
He didn’t want to say it was an _appealing_ thought, but…   
  
_The bees were gone._   
  
There was a blinking light next to him. That was it. There was only one possible target to select.   
  
At least someone had thought ahead. Mituna smiled.   
  
From hell’s heart, I stab at thee…   
You piece of fucking shit.

  
  
M͓̯͈̱̯ͅi̗̭̙t͠u̢̥̰͍̣͖n̜͇͝a͕̰̗̼̻ ̥p̛͓̟͖͙u̬͚̭͖̯̱l̜l͍̮̘͇̠e͉̤̘̦͎̺d̛ ͓͚̠̬̖̪͘th̩̩̳͍̲͉̙e̶̮̗ ͔̩t͔̘̪̝͎̥̘r̭̜̯̻̤i̥͙̬̖̟̹g͚̱͚g͟e̸̲̳͔r͙͔̭͝.͢   
  
A̴̱̻͉͇̱̺̩ň͇̦̈́ͩ̀̑̌̚d̥̺̾͋̀̑   
  
  
Eͯ̇͌̎͠҉҉̼̬̲͇̝̪̣̪̬v͇̉ͯ͋e̜̥̟ͦͅr̢̬̺͖͌̅͌̓̍ͧy͌̄̓̋ͤͫ͑҉̩t̳͔̪̬͖̠̞̭̣ͨ̌͋ḥ̴̨̩̤̟̅̇̅̿͆ͩͭͮͨ͟i̷̢͚̟̦͖̠͖̲̝͕ͯ̾͑͒̊ͫ͛ņ̥̯̆ͬ͋ͤ̓ͪ̓̕g̸̳̭͕̦̭̮̯̖ͨ̊̒̈́̂̂̕͞   
  
  
  
W̴̸̯͈̮̎͊̓̀e͇͛͌̒̃ͬͪͦ͠n̹̩̘̄ͯͩ̇͌̊̾̊̕t̶̢̺ͤ   
  
  
  
  
**B̶͍̺̟͇̥͇̦͙̮̥̮̗͈̲̦̠̠ͬ̓̃̃̂̑̋ͯͥ͒͊͛͂̂ͩ̅̾̚̚͡͠ľ̠̘͈̫͓̜͙͎̖̹̤̱͓̼͎ͩ̓̋ͮ͘͞͡͞ͅa̛̠̦̰͍͍͎̞͎͎̓̓ͤ̈́̂͗̈́̈̊͢͝c̵̦̲͙̝͚͈̣̪͙̬̹͚̱̹̯͛̍ͦ̌̊̒̔͢ͅk̶͇͉̻̥͍̱̮̞̔̔͑̚͢͟**   
  
  
  
  
̷͚͙͍̮̥̥̦̫͕͑̍ͩ͛͂̄ͩ̍ͪͬͮ̓̽ͨ͢͠ ̶ͥͮ̌͊̾ͣ̈ͣ͏̧̬̟͉͍̙̘̯̠̪̲̪̤̭̭̘̩̻͟͠ͅ ̢̤̬̣̬̙͉̼̬͇̰ͮ̽̆͗ͦ̔͌̿̀̂̓̑ͬ͗̎ͥ̾͟͞͡ ̶̯̪̝̻͕͚̲̮̻̟͙̮ͭ̃̽ͭͮ͘ͅ ̸̨̘͖̗̯̰̦͉͈̻̩͚̭̌̐̓ͩͯͣ̌̆͂̀̓̽̐ͬͧ͛ͯ̚͠ͅ ̟̰͇̩̿ͣͨ͑̾̀̽̑͡͝͝ ̵̧̞̳̰̩̙͖̍̒ͥͪ̂͛̇͝͡ ̛͇̙̪̤̩̜̦͎͍͚͇̬̲̳̩̘͉̈̄̌̑̓͛̀ͩ́̌ͦ̑ͨ̈͋ͬ͗̈́͘̕ͅ ̵̵̨̬̹͙̜̹͍̓ͦͨ̑̐̌ͧ̎̑ͮ͌̈́̌ͮ͢͜ͅ ̡̨̆ͧ̂̋͆ͣ͛͊͝͏̬̪͕͖̹̪ ̸̢̲̭͍͔̣̝̳̽̃͗ͭ̅͞ ̛͉̰̭̣̙̤̞͍͉̼̲̭͚̞̭̭̆̍͋͑ͮ̅ͫ̓́̽̾̂̓ͭ͘͝ ̴ͥ̌̊̇̆͐ͫ̓͆͏̪̱̞̘̼͖͉͖͉̰͉͘͡ ̵́͊̽̐ͪͧ̀ͭͤ̐ͤͫͥͦͫ͛̉̏͆҉͙͚͔̙̱̮͉̯ ̉ͤͬ̎ͤͣ̍̍̐̌̄ͯ̒͗ͥ́̑͐͡҉̣̣̫͔̩̦̝̲͇̬͈̫ ͉͍͍̰͉̤̙̝̥̦͂̄͆̑ͅ ̵̫̘̙̥͖̬̬̙̾̌ͭ̀̓̆ͫ̉ͬ̐͟ ̢̛͚̺̙́ͥ̂̐ͫ̎ͬͪͥ̍̎͌̈́͘͜ͅ ̸̷̧͇̩̤̹͂ͦ͋̌ͦ̆̿ͫͫ̅ͤ ̢͇̜͇͍ͦͪͪ̾̌̿̆̽̽ͤͯ͠͞ ̈͛ͫͩ̉͑͑̊ͧ͆̎ͣ͞͞҉̡̧̠̱̫̪̬̻̺̩̳͈͓̪̙̜̲ͅͅ ̦͕͓̺̦̣̹̳̞̲̪̹̬̃ͯ͆ͦ͞ ̭̥̳̞̯͙̻̤̼̹͋ͫͯ̉̅ͣͦ͐ͤ̚͘̕͟͡ͅ ̸̢̨̛̩̖̱͎̪̪̱͔̹̻̖͉̳̥͒̿́̄ͨ̌͊ͪͭͬ̇̄ͧͬ͑̏̚͟ͅͅ ̵̢̢̤̘͖̥ͫ̈̔ͩ͒ͯ̌̉̓̄͟ͅ ̷̷̸͉̤̼̲͈͙̮̗̭͎̫̻͖͍̳̠͚̳͆̈͆̀͐ͣ͊̾ͪͧ͒̈̄̐ͩ̊̑ ̃͛̈́̆ͭͬ͐̅ͭ͏̴̢̡̣̖̜͙̘͍͖͍̭̣̝͚̺̤̝̟̤̜ ̷̀͗̾̄ͨ͗̕͡҉̝̖̩̱͎͓̹̘̯̩̤͈ ̊̍ͪ͒͆ͮ̔̔̿̒̑ͮ͒̊҉̗̫͇̤̣͎̹̯̲̝̱͉͖̫͟͠ ̵̡̗̘̻̥̖̣͖̫̜͚͉̒͋̽ͫ̔̃ͩ͐̈́̉́̈́͆ͮͪ́ͫͣ͜ ̸̢͎͚̮̺̱̘̳̖͍͕̳͍̱̤̺͛͋̓̽͐͗͆̒̽ͪ̍̉̐̒̿͘͜ ̡̤͖̹̲̭̹͓̫̩̫̺̭̠͈̍̎̇̄͂̀̾ͬ̇̿̈́̋͂͂͑̔͗̕ͅ ̠͇̫̲̳̞̳̙̪ͧͦ͑̎ͣ̍̍̉̍̏ͮ͌̆ͬ̚̚͟͢͝ ̶̘̱̭͎̳̦̒̔̓̐ͨ̿ͣͯ̾ͦͧ̒ͅ ̸̵̢̘̜̪̰̳̗̜̥̤͇̠̜̮̮͕̫̙̤͎ͤ̉͂̎̊ͬͣ ͕̻̭̼̹͚̙̉̎̂̓̏̽͌ͨ̕͟͠ ͇̠͕̘̫͎͖̤̫̰͖̩̻͚̭͈̫̙ͨ̊̑̿ͤ̄̐ͤ͛͆͂͘ͅ ̸̝̱͙͖̞̲̟̝̱̭͚͇̹̺͐ͪͯ͗ͣ̃͆̇̃̔ͤ͌ͭͧ͟͠͠ͅ ̢̙̘͎̙̻̥̏ͬͭ̔̈ͭ͛ͫ̿ͦ͞ ̨̢̨͉͍̬͈̲̦̘̹͔̻̎ͤͯͭ̾̊͒̒̔̇̽̒̉̚ ̧͈̗̼̞̼̼̗̗͚͇̘̞̈́̈̾͐ͫ̅ͩ͂̉͗ͩ͘͝ ̐ͫ̔ͤ̓̆̌̇͆̑͆ͩ҉̶̮̰͖̩̜̫͍̲̪̲͜ ̸̢̡̛͎͔̞͉͙̩̔̋͌̌̊̀ͅ ̵̡̨͉̤̘̤̺ͤ̀̓ͥ̈ͧ͒̔ͧ̒̄͊̒̍ͤͨ̒ ̨̰͈͙̪̻̂ͣ̒͡ ̢̡̼̥͖̟̄͗ͪ͋ͮ̓͌ͮ̀ͭ̐̈̆̄͂͋ͮ̕ ̵̢̙̱̺͎̮̲̫̩̝̙̙̍͑̽̈ͧͥ́͊ͥ͗͗̔ͩ͑̾́̉ ̴̍́ͨ͆̀̀̃͝҉̶͙̰̰̮̱͔͈̼̗͚̹̱̤͎̥̭̙̫̕ͅ ͙̠͉̞̳͎͉̪͋̓͂̓͗ͨ͝ͅ ̶̹̦̫͖͖̰͍̖̰̣̎͌͂̒̌͌ͦ̾ͩ͋͛͌͐ͨͥ̂̎̑͘ ̧̹̠̘͉̟͖͉͕̮͖͇̠̙̱̦͆̀̽͆̽̀̾ͯ͛̚͠ ̷̸̴̗̫̫͉̻̦͙̪ͬͤ͌ͭ̈ͨ͛ͪ̈̅ͩ̏ͤ̆͜͢ ̀ͦ͒̒͛͂ͥ̍̎ͧ̀̅̂̀̔̄̕͘҉҉͓̯̗̱̖̱̙ ̶̝̜͉̿̓ͣͬ̂̈̒̾̉̓ͭ̔͋ͪ̾̚͝ ̥̲̥͉̭̖͎̹̞͔̖̰ͣ̏ͭ̊̏͆̅ͯ͂͋͒̍̍̄͞ ̵ͩͦͨͣ́̓̈̅͊̅̋̆̐̎̕҉̲̟̺̯̟͍̗͕͉̱̻̪͈̖̬͉̲ͅ ̶͓̱̙͇̮̌̇͒͋ ̢̛͊̋̍̋͆̏̃̓ͧͭͮ̽ͨ̌͌͒͏̙͕̯̖̭̭͔͜͡ͅͅ ̮̣̘͂̏̏̓͘͢ ͨ̐ͮ̓͊ͥ̄͌̋ͨ͂ͦ́̾҉͏̙̮̜̯͉̟ͅ ̨̖͎̬̯͉̮̟̤͓͍͚̬̤ͦ̾̉̋ͥ͒̄̅̚͝͝ ͓̞̺͓̝̗̫̜̠̰̖͉̤̮͕ͣͣ͂̓͗͐͌ͫ̋̌͘͘ ̢͕̞̹̱́ͫ̊̈ͩͭ̅̚͢ ̸̢̢̠̲͓͚̼̪̓̒̔̐̚ ͓̹̣̺͌̏̎̍̓̌̔̌́ͪ͛̏͐͒́̕͞͡ ̡̧͓͔͙͓̼̥̪̝̪̪̝͈͔̟͎ͫ̄ͧ̐͊͊̑ͦͦ̽͑͊͌̓̀̎̍̕͡ ̷̵͔̺͇͎̰̱̰ͮ̌̔̑̃͋̇̇͑͂̋̈́͗͒̈ͅ ̸̧͓͍̝̜̱͇̮̓ͭ́̀̊̃̓̄̓ͦ̇̊̑̎ͮͧ̂̕ͅ ̳͍͚̰̰͖̫͇̠͙̮̙̫̪̂́̋̎̎͊̆̆̃͟͟͡ͅ ̶ͥͮ̌͊̾ͣ̈ͣ͏̧̬̟͉͍̙̘̯̠̪̲̪̤̭̭̘̩̻͟͠ͅ ̢̤̬̣̬̙͉̼̬͇̰ͮ̽̆͗ͦ̔͌̿̀̂̓̑ͬ͗̎ͥ̾͟͞͡ ̶̯̪̝̻͕͚̲̮̻̟͙̮ͭ̃̽ͭͮ͘ͅ ̸̨̘͖̗̯̰̦͉͈̻̩͚̭̌̐̓ͩͯͣ̌̆͂̀̓̽̐ͬͧ͛ͯ̚͠ͅ ̟̰͇̩̿ͣͨ͑̾̀̽̑͡͝͝ ̵̧̞̳̰̩̙͖̍̒ͥͪ̂͛̇͝͡ ̛͇̙̪̤̩̜̦͎͍͚͇̬̲̳̩̘͉̈̄̌̑̓͛̀ͩ́̌ͦ̑ͨ̈͋ͬ͗̈́͘̕ͅ ̵̵̨̬̹͙̜̹͍̓ͦͨ̑̐̌ͧ̎̑ͮ͌̈́̌ͮ͢͜ͅ ̡̨̆ͧ̂̋͆ͣ͛͊͝͏̬̪͕͖̹̪ ̸̢̲̭͍͔̣̝̳̽̃͗ͭ̅͞ ̛͉̰̭̣̙̤̞͍͉̼̲̭͚̞̭̭̆̍͋͑ͮ̅ͫ̓́̽̾̂̓ͭ͘͝ ̴ͥ̌̊̇̆͐ͫ̓͆͏̪̱̞̘̼͖͉͖͉̰͉͘͡ ̵́͊̽̐ͪͧ̀ͭͤ̐ͤͫͥͦͫ͛̉̏͆҉͙͚͔̙̱̮͉̯ ̉ͤͬ̎ͤͣ̍̍̐̌̄ͯ̒͗ͥ́̑͐͡҉̣̣̫͔̩̦̝̲͇̬͈̫ ͉͍͍̰͉̤̙̝̥̦͂̄͆̑ͅ ̵̫̘̙̥͖̬̬̙̾̌ͭ̀̓̆ͫ̉ͬ̐͟ ̢̛͚̺̙́ͥ̂̐ͫ̎ͬͪͥ̍̎͌̈́͘͜ͅ ̸̷̧͇̩̤̹͂ͦ͋̌ͦ̆̿ͫͫ̅ͤ ̢͇̜͇͍ͦͪͪ̾̌̿̆̽̽ͤͯ͠͞ ̈͛ͫͩ̉͑͑̊ͧ͆̎ͣ͞͞҉̡̧̠̱̫̪̬̻̺̩̳͈͓̪̙̜̲ͅͅ ̦͕͓̺̦̣̹̳̞̲̪̹̬̃ͯ͆ͦ͞ ̭̥̳̞̯͙̻̤̼̹͋ͫͯ̉̅ͣͦ͐ͤ̚͘̕͟͡ͅ ̸̢̨̛̩̖̱͎̪̪̱͔̹̻̖͉̳̥͒̿́̄ͨ̌͊ͪͭͬ̇̄ͧͬ͑̏̚͟ͅͅ ̵̢̢̤̘͖̥ͫ̈̔ͩ͒ͯ̌̉̓̄͟ͅ ̷̷̸͉̤̼̲͈͙̮̗̭͎̫̻͖͍̳̠͚̳͆̈͆̀͐ͣ͊̾ͪͧ͒̈̄̐ͩ̊̑ ̃͛̈́̆ͭͬ͐̅ͭ͏̴̢̡̣̖̜͙̘͍͖͍̭̣̝͚̺̤̝̟̤̜ ̷̀͗̾̄ͨ͗̕͡҉̝̖̩̱͎͓̹̘̯̩̤͈ ̊̍ͪ͒͆ͮ̔̔̿̒̑ͮ͒̊҉̗̫͇̤̣͎̹̯̲̝̱͉͖̫͟͠ ̵̡̗̘̻̥̖̣͖̫̜͚͉̒͋̽ͫ̔̃ͩ͐̈́̉́̈́͆ͮͪ́ͫͣ͜ ̸̢͎͚̮̺̱̘̳̖͍͕̳͍̱̤̺͛͋̓̽͐͗͆̒̽ͪ̍̉̐̒̿͘͜ ̡̤͖̹̲̭̹͓̫̩̫̺̭̠͈̍̎̇̄͂̀̾ͬ̇̿̈́̋͂͂͑̔͗̕ͅ ̠͇̫̲̳̞̳̙̪ͧͦ͑̎ͣ̍̍̉̍̏ͮ͌̆ͬ̚̚͟͢͝ ̶̘̱̭͎̳̦̒̔̓̐ͨ̿ͣͯ̾ͦͧ̒ͅ ̸̵̢̘̜̪̰̳̗̜̥̤͇̠̜̮̮͕̫̙̤͎ͤ̉͂̎̊ͬͣ ͕̻̭̼̹͚̙̉̎̂̓̏̽͌ͨ̕͟͠ ͇̠͕̘̫͎͖̤̫̰͖̩̻͚̭͈̫̙ͨ̊̑̿ͤ̄̐ͤ͛͆͂͘ͅ ̸̝̱͙͖̞̲̟̝̱̭͚͇̹̺͐ͪͯ͗ͣ̃͆̇̃̔ͤ͌ͭͧ͟͠͠ͅ ̢̙̘͎̙̻̥̏ͬͭ̔̈ͭ͛ͫ̿ͦ͞ ̨̢̨͉͍̬͈̲̦̘̹͔̻̎ͤͯͭ̾̊͒̒̔̇̽̒̉̚ ̧͈̗̼̞̼̼̗̗͚͇̘̞̈́̈̾͐ͫ̅ͩ͂̉͗ͩ͘͝ ̐ͫ̔ͤ̓̆̌̇͆̑͆ͩ҉̶̮̰͖̩̜̫͍̲̪̲͜ ̸̢̡̛͎͔̞͉͙̩̔̋͌̌̊̀ͅ ̵̡̨͉̤̘̤̺ͤ̀̓ͥ̈ͧ͒̔ͧ̒̄͊̒̍ͤͨ̒ ̨̰͈͙̪̻̂ͣ̒͡ ̢̡̼̥͖̟̄͗ͪ͋ͮ̓͌ͮ̀ͭ̐̈̆̄͂͋ͮ̕ ̵̢̙̱̺͎̮̲̫̩̝̙̙̍͑̽̈ͧͥ́͊ͥ͗͗̔ͩ͑̾́̉ ̴̍́ͨ͆̀̀̃͝҉̶͙̰̰̮̱͔͈̼̗͚̹̱̤͎̥̭̙̫̕ͅ ͙̠͉̞̳͎͉̪͋̓͂̓͗ͨ͝ͅ ̶̹̦̫͖͖̰͍̖̰̣̎͌͂̒̌͌ͦ̾ͩ͋͛͌͐ͨͥ̂̎̑͘ ̧̹̠̘͉̟͖͉͕̮͖͇̠̙̱̦͆̀̽͆̽̀̾ͯ͛̚͠ ̷̸̴̗̫̫͉̻̦͙̪ͬͤ͌ͭ̈ͨ͛ͪ̈̅ͩ̏ͤ̆͜͢ ̀ͦ͒̒͛͂ͥ̍̎ͧ̀̅̂̀̔̄̕͘҉҉͓̯̗̱̖̱̙ ̶̝̜͉̿̓ͣͬ̂̈̒̾̉̓ͭ̔͋ͪ̾̚͝ ̥̲̥͉̭̖͎̹̞͔̖̰ͣ̏ͭ̊̏͆̅ͯ͂͋͒̍̍̄͞ ̵ͩͦͨͣ́̓̈̅͊̅̋̆̐̎̕҉̲̟̺̯̟͍̗͕͉̱̻̪͈̖̬͉̲ͅ ̶͓̱̙͇̮̌̇͒͋ ̢̛͊̋̍̋͆̏̃̓ͧͭͮ̽ͨ̌͌͒͏̙͕̯̖̭̭͔͜͡ͅͅ ̮̣̘͂̏̏̓͘͢ ͨ̐ͮ̓͊ͥ̄͌̋ͨ͂ͦ́̾҉͏̙̮̜̯͉̟ͅ ̨̖͎̬̯͉̮̟̤͓͍͚̬̤ͦ̾̉̋ͥ͒̄̅̚͝͝ ͓̞̺͓̝̗̫̜̠̰̖͉̤̮͕ͣͣ͂̓͗͐͌ͫ̋̌͘͘ ̢͕̞̹̱́ͫ̊̈ͩͭ̅̚͢ ̸̢̢̠̲͓͚̼̪̓̒̔̐̚ ͓̹̣̺͌̏̎̍̓̌̔̌́ͪ͛̏͐͒́̕͞͡ ̡̧͓͔͙͓̼̥̪̝̪̪̝͈͔̟͎ͫ̄ͧ̐͊͊̑ͦͦ̽͑͊͌̓̀̎̍̕͡ ̷̵͔̺͇͎̰̱̰ͮ̌̔̑̃͋̇̇͑͂̋̈́͗͒̈ͅ ̸̧͓͍̝̜̱͇̮̓ͭ́̀̊̃̓̄̓ͦ̇̊̑̎ͮͧ̂̕ͅ ̳͍͚̰̰͖̫͇̠͙̮̙̫̪̂́̋̎̎͊̆̆̃͟͟͡ͅ   
  
  
  
  
  
̶ͥ̆̃͒͐ͨ̏͌̐ͨ̑̅̒ͮ̈́̂̂͏҉̣̣̬̼͕̩͉͠ ̢ͬͫ̒ͩͣ҉̭̝̦̻̦ ̢̞̦̜̦̠͎̙͖͍͉̰̘ͪͣ̃̏̐̿ͩ̕͟ ̧̳͈̖̜̗ͥ̈́̌͆̄ͯ͛ͤ̽̓̿͗ͣͨ͜ ̵̷̡̩͙͍̪̬̥̐͆ͦ̊̀ͧͮ̋ͭ̔̈́ͤͨ͒̕͞ ̴̟̼̹̮̪̪̘̳͍̞̜ͨ̈́̽͐̾̅̓͊ͩ̇̑ͧ͠ ̷̵̨̣͇̹͚̺̹̠̼̹͓̖̤̫̠̺ͮ͐̎̅̽ͦ̑ ̢̭͇̰͈͓̜̳̫̲̖͎̟̪̭͍̼̱̰̼̍̃ͬ̑ͣ͒͒̓ͣ͌͆͆͂̕͟͞ ̪͉̙̞͈̯͈̇ͥ̎̔ͪ̽̊͜͝͞ ͚̝̥͙̹̦̠͕̝̘̳͓͚̖̯̥̞͐ͣͦ̀̃̐̂̀̇̒͛ͪ̿͗ͧͬͬͭ͢͡ ̸̷̛͈̩̳̘̩̠ͮ̊͆ͨ͂ͫ̑ͯͥ̏ͧ̚̚͝ͅͅ ͋̽̇̈ͭͭ̊̾̉͒҉̸̥͓̠͉͍͉̼̫̘̥̬̻̖͓̭̰͚͓͟ ̵̶̽͂́̎͒̂̐͌̊̉̅̃͂̍ͪ̈́̉͝҉͓̯̬̙͔̻̳͙̦͖̼͈̦̬͝ ̶̩̭̝͙̍̓͐̂͢ ̵̨̊͂ͤ̔́̽ͩ̐̂ͤ̽ͥ̈͏̡͇̥̰̞̞̦̜̺͎̘͉ ̻͙͙̙̳̙̣̹̜͉̜̳̳ͪͣ̍̎̾̅ͦͮ͠ͅ ̴̏̾̔ͨ́ͣ̓ͫͩͯ͆̓͟͏̫͙͕͔̰͙̫̩̫̟̺͕ͅ ̡̦̰̹̪͍̥̮͖̗̳̺͕̐ͣ̿ͭ͒́͆ͪ̽ͥ̍̅̆͂ͅ ̶̞̜̖̣̗̜̪̦̘͕̩̠̖͓̤̰̠͎̄͐̂̈́̈́̍̔ͯ̅̀̆̓̂̍ͮ͡͞ ̵̳̥̤̘͍̠̺͕̩͈ͣ̄̉͂̓͌͋ͮ̚͝͝ͅ ͐͌ͨͪ͌҉̡͞҉͚͈͓̝̗̦̩̭͚ ̛͕̜͔͙̞͋̇ͧ͑̌͌ͥ̏̂͜͜͢ ̸̧͚͍̠̻̭̳̊ͩͬ̽̾͗͆͌ͫͯ̾͟͟͞ ͩͯ͆̒̔̽̚̕҉̛̯̱͖̳̰͔̫͖̘͉͢ ̷̧̓̿̃̌̆̓̉̋ͭͬ̉̄̉̇͛̈͐̏̚̕҉̩̯̩̻̭͍̙̭͚͎̘ ͔͈̗͖̪͇̗̖̦̰̰̜̤̇́̔̇̐͗ͭ̊̐̈́͟͡ ̷̋ͨ͑̉̎̎ͩ͐͗͒ͬ͒ͧͥ̈ͦͣ̚͘͜͏̙̭͈̞̹̱̙̼͕̜͇̝̞͚̩̲͉͟ ̧͚͉̝̳̖͉͇͙̥͔̰͉̤̘̍̒̐̌̈́͗̉̓͗̃ͤ͂̑ͣ̉̏̐ͧ̎ ̵̷͎̺͎͚̙͈̤̠͙͖̩̯̣̜̜͕̺̜͇̾͌̽̓̊̏ͧ͞ ̽̔̾̽͆ͣ̍͑̿̇̈ͧ̈́ͨͪ̌ͩ̿̚҉̡͉̝̭̩̹̮̫̖̥͙͉͉̩͢ͅ ̛̃̇̄͑̀͏̳̼̦͖ ̵̧̧͉̦̪͍͈̣̠̹̠̹͐͐̃̀̋̋̈̀͌͑͞ ̡̪̼͇̳̳̥̞͓̱̯͇͍̭̖̍͒̄̐̃ͅ ̴̮̝̳̪͇͙̐ͣ̌̈́̚ ̷̶̙͈̰͍̲͔̭̱̯͓̠̗̲̣͎̹̤͐̇͂ͪͪ̇̿͢͢͞ ̨̤͈̺̲͙̼̒͗ͪ͗̄̀͟͡ ̶̵̟̪͓͓͍̩̲̹̰̲͓̻̖͔̪̝̜̦̱ͫ̇̏ͬ́͒̔̐ͬ̄̋̓̚͟͞ ̵̴̧̟̦͍͍͍̮̮̥͈̗̙̗̗̳̩̉̎͐̐͢ͅ ̡̞̥͙͕̯̰̺͉̻͈͙͕͎̬͕͍̾ͬͭ̽̍͒̇̽̃̐̀̔͌̅͛̌̏̽͜͞ ͎̗͍͉̹̅̅͌̌̋͋͑ͣͬ̈ͭ͊̚͟͞͝ ̡̬̮͎̤̬͎̫̤͎͕̮̤̈͐͂͐̑̍͊ͣ̆̍͗̇͂͋ͧ̉̄͗͑ ̶ͥͮ̌͊̾ͣ̈ͣ͏̧̬̟͉͍̙̘̯̠̪̲̪̤̭̭̘̩̻͟͠ͅ ̢̤̬̣̬̙͉̼̬͇̰ͮ̽̆͗ͦ̔͌̿̀̂̓̑ͬ͗̎ͥ̾͟͞͡ ̶̯̪̝̻͕͚̲̮̻̟͙̮ͭ̃̽ͭͮ͘ͅ ̸̨̘͖̗̯̰̦͉͈̻̩͚̭̌̐̓ͩͯͣ̌̆͂̀̓̽̐ͬͧ͛ͯ̚͠ͅ ̟̰͇̩̿ͣͨ͑̾̀̽̑͡͝͝ ̵̧̞̳̰̩̙͖̍̒ͥͪ̂͛̇͝͡ ̛͇̙̪̤̩̜̦͎͍͚͇̬̲̳̩̘͉̈̄̌̑̓͛̀ͩ́̌ͦ̑ͨ̈͋ͬ͗̈́͘̕ͅ ̵̵̨̬̹͙̜̹͍̓ͦͨ̑̐̌ͧ̎̑ͮ͌̈́̌ͮ͢͜ͅ ̡̨̆ͧ̂̋͆ͣ͛͊͝͏̬̪͕͖̹̪ ̸̢̲̭͍͔̣̝̳̽̃͗ͭ̅͞ ̛͉̰̭̣̙̤̞͍͉̼̲̭͚̞̭̭̆̍͋͑ͮ̅ͫ̓́̽̾̂̓ͭ͘͝ ̴ͥ̌̊̇̆͐ͫ̓͆͏̪̱̞̘̼͖͉͖͉̰͉͘͡ ̵́͊̽̐ͪͧ̀ͭͤ̐ͤͫͥͦͫ͛̉̏͆҉͙͚͔̙̱̮͉̯ ̉ͤͬ̎ͤͣ̍̍̐̌̄ͯ̒͗ͥ́̑͐͡҉̣̣̫͔̩̦̝̲͇̬͈̫ ͉͍͍̰͉̤̙̝̥̦͂̄͆̑ͅ ̵̫̘̙̥͖̬̬̙̾̌ͭ̀̓̆ͫ̉ͬ̐͟ ̢̛͚̺̙́ͥ̂̐ͫ̎ͬͪͥ̍̎͌̈́͘͜ͅ ̸̷̧͇̩̤̹͂ͦ͋̌ͦ̆̿ͫͫ̅ͤ ̢͇̜͇͍ͦͪͪ̾̌̿̆̽̽ͤͯ͠͞ ̈͛ͫͩ̉͑͑̊ͧ͆̎ͣ͞͞҉̡̧̠̱̫̪̬̻̺̩̳͈͓̪̙̜̲ͅͅ ̦͕͓̺̦̣̹̳̞̲̪̹̬̃ͯ͆ͦ͞ ̭̥̳̞̯͙̻̤̼̹͋ͫͯ̉̅ͣͦ͐ͤ̚͘̕͟͡ͅ ̸̢̨̛̩̖̱͎̪̪̱͔̹̻̖͉̳̥͒̿́̄ͨ̌͊ͪͭͬ̇̄ͧͬ͑̏̚͟ͅͅ ̵̢̢̤̘͖̥ͫ̈̔ͩ͒ͯ̌̉̓̄͟ͅ ̷̷̸͉̤̼̲͈͙̮̗̭͎̫̻͖͍̳̠͚̳͆̈͆̀͐ͣ͊̾ͪͧ͒̈̄̐ͩ̊̑ ̃͛̈́̆ͭͬ͐̅ͭ͏̴̢̡̣̖̜͙̘͍͖͍̭̣̝͚̺̤̝̟̤̜ ̷̀͗̾̄ͨ͗̕͡҉̝̖̩̱͎͓̹̘̯̩̤͈ ̊̍ͪ͒͆ͮ̔̔̿̒̑ͮ͒̊҉̗̫͇̤̣͎̹̯̲̝̱͉͖̫͟͠ ̵̡̗̘̻̥̖̣͖̫̜͚͉̒͋̽ͫ̔̃ͩ͐̈́̉́̈́͆ͮͪ́ͫͣ͜ ̸̢͎͚̮̺̱̘̳̖͍͕̳͍̱̤̺͛͋̓̽͐͗͆̒̽ͪ̍̉̐̒̿͘͜ ̡̤͖̹̲̭̹͓̫̩̫̺̭̠͈̍̎̇̄͂̀̾ͬ̇̿̈́̋͂͂͑̔͗̕ͅ ̠͇̫̲̳̞̳̙̪ͧͦ͑̎ͣ̍̍̉̍̏ͮ͌̆ͬ̚̚͟͢͝ ̶̘̱̭͎̳̦̒̔̓̐ͨ̿ͣͯ̾ͦͧ̒ͅ ̸̵̢̘̜̪̰̳̗̜̥̤͇̠̜̮̮͕̫̙̤͎ͤ̉͂̎̊ͬͣ ͕̻̭̼̹͚̙̉̎̂̓̏̽͌ͨ̕͟͠ ͇̠͕̘̫͎͖̤̫̰͖̩̻͚̭͈̫̙ͨ̊̑̿ͤ̄̐ͤ͛͆͂͘ͅ ̸̝̱͙͖̞̲̟̝̱̭͚͇̹̺͐ͪͯ͗ͣ̃͆̇̃̔ͤ͌ͭͧ͟͠͠ͅ ̢̙̘͎̙̻̥̏ͬͭ̔̈ͭ͛ͫ̿ͦ͞ ̨̢̨͉͍̬͈̲̦̘̹͔̻̎ͤͯͭ̾̊͒̒̔̇̽̒̉̚ ̧͈̗̼̞̼̼̗̗͚͇̘̞̈́̈̾͐ͫ̅ͩ͂̉͗ͩ͘͝ ̐ͫ̔ͤ̓̆̌̇͆̑͆ͩ҉̶̮̰͖̩̜̫͍̲̪̲͜ ̸̢̡̛͎͔̞͉͙̩̔̋͌̌̊̀ͅ ̵̡̨͉̤̘̤̺ͤ̀̓ͥ̈ͧ͒̔ͧ̒̄͊̒̍ͤͨ̒ ̨̰͈͙̪̻̂ͣ̒͡ ̢̡̼̥͖̟̄͗ͪ͋ͮ̓͌ͮ̀ͭ̐̈̆̄͂͋ͮ̕ ̵̢̙̱̺͎̮̲̫̩̝̙̙̍͑̽̈ͧͥ́͊ͥ͗͗̔ͩ͑̾́̉ ̴̍́ͨ͆̀̀̃͝҉̶͙̰̰̮̱͔͈̼̗͚̹̱̤͎̥̭̙̫̕ͅ ͙̠͉̞̳͎͉̪͋̓͂̓͗ͨ͝ͅ ̶̹̦̫͖͖̰͍̖̰̣̎͌͂̒̌͌ͦ̾ͩ͋͛͌͐ͨͥ̂̎̑͘ ̧̹̠̘͉̟͖͉͕̮͖͇̠̙̱̦͆̀̽͆̽̀̾ͯ͛̚͠ ̷̸̴̗̫̫͉̻̦͙̪ͬͤ͌ͭ̈ͨ͛ͪ̈̅ͩ̏ͤ̆͜͢ ̀ͦ͒̒͛͂ͥ̍̎ͧ̀̅̂̀̔̄̕͘҉҉͓̯̗̱̖̱̙ ̶̝̜͉̿̓ͣͬ̂̈̒̾̉̓ͭ̔͋ͪ̾̚͝ ̥̲̥͉̭̖͎̹̞͔̖̰ͣ̏ͭ̊̏͆̅ͯ͂͋͒̍̍̄͞ ̵ͩͦͨͣ́̓̈̅͊̅̋̆̐̎̕҉̲̟̺̯̟͍̗͕͉̱̻̪͈̖̬͉̲ͅ ̶͓̱̙͇̮̌̇͒͋ ̢̛͊̋̍̋͆̏̃̓ͧͭͮ̽ͨ̌͌͒͏̙͕̯̖̭̭͔͜͡ͅͅ ̮̣̘͂̏̏̓͘͢ ͨ̐ͮ̓͊ͥ̄͌̋ͨ͂ͦ́̾҉͏̙̮̜̯͉̟ͅ ̨̖͎̬̯͉̮̟̤͓͍͚̬̤ͦ̾̉̋ͥ͒̄̅̚͝͝ ͓̞̺͓̝̗̫̜̠̰̖͉̤̮͕ͣͣ͂̓͗͐͌ͫ̋̌͘͘ ̢͕̞̹̱́ͫ̊̈ͩͭ̅̚͢ ̸̢̢̠̲͓͚̼̪̓̒̔̐̚ ͓̹̣̺͌̏̎̍̓̌̔̌́ͪ͛̏͐͒́̕͞͡ ̡̧͓͔͙͓̼̥̪̝̪̪̝͈͔̟͎ͫ̄ͧ̐͊͊̑ͦͦ̽͑͊͌̓̀̎̍̕͡ ̷̵͔̺͇͎̰̱̰ͮ̌̔̑̃͋̇̇͑͂̋̈́͗͒̈ͅ ̸̧͓͍̝̜̱͇̮̓ͭ́̀̊̃̓̄̓ͦ̇̊̑̎ͮͧ̂̕ͅ ̳͍͚̰̰͖̫͇̠͙̮̙̫̪̂́̋̎̎͊̆̆̃͟͟͡ͅ ̵̧̗̖̼̯̱͕͗ͩͤͥͬͧ͊͋̆ͫͬ͑͌ͬ̒ͧͫ͢ ̷̆̇ͯ̓̊ͬ̀́̈͑͒ͯ̉̚̚͞͏̭̺̟͍͍͎̣͈̮̠͖͉̝̙̗͘ ͓͖̖̬̻͎̗͉̗͖͉͎̼͇̲̳̏͌͋ͦͣ̽ͧ̂̃̐̅͊ͯͮ͛ͯ̾̾͡ͅ ̜̖̩̠̤̠̅̄̈ͯ̔̍́̅ͫ̃̚̕͢͡ ̸̵̘̱̱͈͓͓̗̬̣͍͖͙͔͙̘̜͆̅̒̾ͯ̐̾̚ ̧̰̞̝̥̰̘̙̳̝̻͇̘̳̫͖̪̮̓ͥ̓̑̑̍̑͌ͫ͝ͅ ̸̛͓̳̞͇̱͈̳̻̘͎̗̤̣̞̩͕̳̟̇̇ͭ̏̅ͦ̊͘͞ ̧̛̪̼͍̬̪͍̘̦̦͕̯͓̱̓̇̈͊ͨ̿̃̒͗̏ͨ̓ͪ͜ͅ ͗̍̅̋̓҉̸̧͔̮̗̟͍̯̹̠͓̝ ̶̵̙͕̪̝̥̏́̆ͧͬͬ̓͌͒̌̇̓̊ͧ̊͢ ̧̡̹̗̣̰͈͓̜̜̖̭͉̼̳͓ͮ͂̊̊ͯ̀̌̽̅ͭ̎̈͆́̽̐̌ͯ̕͢ͅͅ ̧͍̭͙͈͖̺̭̜̥̗̺̹̞̹͓̦̳͆̈ͤ̑̂ͭ͋̂̀͛̄̈ͣͦ̀̐̕͢ͅ ̴̟͇͕̪̱ͦ̌̑͒ͪ͊ͬ͋ͤ̋͋ͦ̐͟͟͞ ̴̱͚̗̮̪̖̘̖͙̬̬̝͉̍ͬ͗̀̅͐̋̾̐̍̌̽̚ ̵̶̛̮̰͖̺̫̟̞̪̍ͨ̉̒͒̒̆̌ͥ͋̚ ̑̅̅ͩ̇̈̾́́̇͛͒̾͌ͯ̃͊ͥ͏͚̞͔̰̦̼̲͈͖͓̦̩̞ ͗ͦ̑̋ͨ̉͋̈̉̈̿ͩ͏̕͟͏͈̟͚͖͓͓͕̹̙͇ ́̿̀̿̄͂̐ͣ͐̌ͩ̑͏̘̣̩̺̦̝̝̗̖̮͇̺̰̖̺̲̻͔͘ ̸̵͕͈̬̩̖͖͙̰̬̤͙͔̖̳̗̻͉ͣ̒̍͌ͩ̋ͩ̊ͥ͆͊ͮ̄ ̛̥̳͈̻̣̠͉̩̥̳͓͉͎̫̙͈̖͈͛ͨ̍̊̾̎ ̸͎͉̼̣͚̯̊̾̾̊͌ͮ̿̏̚͟͜͡ ̡̢̙͎͕̮̘̖͍̠͚̖̭͎̳̮̻̼̊̓̋͌͊̉̈̍ͬͯ̎͛̌͊͌ͮ͜͟ͅ ̸̟͈̫͔̎ͮ͌ͩ̓͢͠ ̷̸̡̫̳̭̥͓̱̠̫͓͇̓̉̄̅̓ͬ̌͗͆̋͗́͂ ̛͉̫̖̞̼̳̻̖̹͓̩͇̭̹̭̞͉̭͓͆͊ͦ̄ͤ̏̿̒ͮ͜ ̷̡͖̞̺̳̐ͦ̄͒͒ͥ͆͌̉̈ͦ͑͋ͧͨ͆̓͘͢ ̔ͯ̓ͮ͋̿ͮ̆̕͏̷̯̭̖̦̩̠̩͖̳̕   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	65. Impact

Latula was off her feet and on the ground before she could fully process what was happening. There was no sound – not at first – only a rumble in the ground and a wave of force that picked her up and slammed her shoulder-first into the ground. She landed next to Kurloz, who was already sprawled on the ground, and skidded a few feet. The rumbling aftershocks of… whatever it was were still going.

She looked around frantically – Meulin was lying on the ground, struggling to get up. Aradia was, somehow, still on her feet even though she’d dropped the carbine. She was already trying to help Meulin up. Damara was…

Latula saw the rust blood lying on the ground, not moving. She ran over, almost tripping over her own feet on the way, and crouched over Damara. She was still breathing, at least – groaning.

“Damara!” Latula leaned over and pulled Damara’s shoulders up to help turn her over. There was a wet, rusty spot on Damara’s abdomen. “Oh shit, you’re bleeding!”

“Stitches…” Damara muttered. “Hit hard… popped the stitches.” Latula lifted under her shoulders and Damara sat up. Another tremor from underneath – less serious than the first one.

Aradia and Kurloz were helping Meulin up – it looked like she was mostly fine, just shaken. The three of them were signing quickly to each other and Latula wished she knew what they were saying. It wasn’t important – she hugged Damara, delicately avoiding her abdomen.

“Thank fuck.” She held on through another aftershock – just until she heard Aradia’s voice from behind her.

“This is sweet, but we need to leave before this place tears itself apart.” She didn’t sound exactly _worried,_ but there was an edge to her voice that Latula didn’t like. “I suspect that the moon may have been hit by a kinetic acceleration cannon.”

Latula turned to look at her in disbelief, but her face was dead serious. She also looked… better? Her eyes didn’t have the same haze around them as before. It was as if some unseen veil had been lifted.

“Help me with her,” Latula said. Between the two of them, helping Damara to her feet was simple. “We need to go find Meenah and get the hell out of here.”

“Your devotion to your friend is admirable, but I fear we may be running out of time quickly.” Aradia’s eyes darted around. “I suspect that the orbital cannon around this very moon was used to… surgically attack something inside. I suspect it might have been aimed at whatever was enabling Scratch to… function.”

How the fuck does she know that?

It was a question for later. In the moment, the combination of Aradia’s insistence that they leave and the continued shaking of the ground made it obvious that something bad was about to happen.

“Do you even know the way?” Latula asked – the last thing she remembered was being knocked out when they arrived.

“I’m familiar with the layout of this place – well enough to lead us.” Aradia didn’t sound entirely confident, but good-enough was good enough.

Latula nodded. “Fine, let’s go.”

* * *

They passed more bodies on the way toward the ship – trolls that all looked a little bit like Kankri Vantas. Their eyes stared blankly into nothing and there were flecks of blood around their mouths. One of them had apparently thrown up most of his stomach lining onto the corridor floor. Latula turned away, not wanting to dwell on that particular image for too long.

“What happened?” Latula asked Aradia – the two of them were helping to carry Damara along. “And how do you know so much about it?”

“I’m mostly making educated guesses,” Aradia admitted. “When I was still with the Authority, we suspected that Spire was still acting in secret – working on something. I knew about Scratch… to some extent. I thought I did, anyway. Developments here have made me question how much I really knew. And what the precise relationship between Spire and the Empire was. I believe we may have been used by an entity far outside our comprehension.”

Latula grunted in response, but said nothing.

It’s too much right now… we’ll talk later…

She didn’t know if that was true or not. Odds were they wouldn’t talk about it again. She had some very specific thoughts about where she wanted to go after this, and it involved Damara and some kind of cabin in the South Alternian woods. She wasn’t sure how they were going to afford that but…

If there’s even a planet to come back to after all this.

She’d worry about it later. They continued down the corridor, taking turns as Aradia directed them, with Kurloz and Meulin following closely behind. Eventually they came to a familiar-looking hallway that widened up. It was the place they’d been when they first arrived. Latula could barely contain the excitement she felt.

It died as she looked on – there was a figure at the end of the hallway, blocking the airlock door.

It looked just like Kankri Vantas.

The face was twisted into a grimace that defined any trace of the Alternian who’d once been there. Warped with a hatred that transcended any pretense of benevolent control. Pure hatred – the kind that saw only the undefined _other_ and wanted nothing more than to destroy it.

“My darlings… why are you running from this place?” The voice was so familiar now, but so foreign – the same syntax coming from a fresh pair of vocal cords and echoing down this corridor.

Kurloz was the first one to speak. “You’ve lost this, brother.” He looked down at Meulin, who signed quickly. “My sister here says that you’re not in her head anymore.”

The thing at the end of the hallway spat to the side and sneered – it looked like someone who’d forgotten how to make facial expressions. “I may be but a splinter of myself – a last remnant that clings to this world – but I will hurt as many of you as I can before this last small window into your world closes.”

If there was more, none of them would ever get to hear it. The sound of a gun going off in the corridor and Meulin was holding the rifle that Aradia had dropped earlier. A single shot that landed directly between that troll-thing’s eyes. Mutant blood splashed up against the door and the last useless shell of a body on the ground.

The rifle clattered down and Meulin waved signs at them. Kurloz smiled.

“She says that the bastard talked too much.”

* * *

The ship was still there – that was something – and it looked like it hadn’t been damaged by the initial shockwave. Their personal environmental suits were all still there in the airlock, and once they were changed, they had been able to enter the ship and begin pre-launch checks.

Latula still worried about Meenah. They’d just left her behind. She picked up the radio – 

“This is Latula… I hope… I hope you’re okay.”

No response. Which was what she expected, but it still hurt to hear the quiet static instead of a familiar voice. As much as she hated to admit it, Meenah had helped to glue them all together. With her and Aranea both gone… she was starting to cry.

With everyone strapped in, Aradia began to initiate the launch sequence. Thrusters engaged and the ship lifted from the surface of the hangar and moved toward the large door at the end – to move toward freedom. Latula settled down into the jumpseat and looked over at Damara.

The rust blood had her eyes closed – she looked uncomfortable, but she was smiling. Latula reached out – she could just barely reach Damara’s hand. She grasped it softly and closed her own eyes… 

* * *

**Half a Sweep Ago** **  
** **Rust District, North Alternian Capital**   
  
“You ever think about what’s on the other side of this?” Latula wasn’t sure why the question popped into her head, but once it was there, she needed to ask. She and Damara were lying on the pile in Damara’s tiny apartment. Latula’s place was a bit bigger but she found it too cold and sterile – the architecture of the Teal District seemed almost deliberately uninviting sometimes.   
  
“What do you mean?” Damara asked, her voice thick with sleep. “After this job?”   
  
“Sure.” Latula smiled and snuggled in close to Damara, feeling the warmth of her. She closed her eyes and let herself be drawn into the feeling of the moment. “Or after all this in general… after all the jobs.”   
  
A pause – a moment to think. “I guess I never thought about it,” Damara said quietly. “I try not to think about the future too much.”   
  
“So where would you go if you could go anywhere – do anything? Like, we finish this job and we make so much money we never have to do another one.” She felt like she was leaving out exactly where Mituna would fit into this situation, but… maybe that was a situation that they should talk about sooner rather than later. It was mostly just a fantasy at this point anyway – she’d cross the bridge when she got there.   
  
“I guess…” Damara stopped for a second. “I guess I’d go to South Alternia. Down by where the Bay of Resolution cuts in and there’s all the nice forests.”   
  
“You want to go to live in the woods?” Latula laughed. “I thought you were a city gal all the way.”   
  
Damara was quiet when she answered – Latula could almost hear her heartbeat. “I like the city because it drowns out… a lot of things. But I’d like to imagine a world where I don’t need to do that anymore. Where I can just enjoy the quiet.”   
  
“So… like, a cabin in the woods somewhere?” Latula smiled.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Maybe with someone you love?” She closed her eyes and cleaned into Damara’s chest, listening to the heartbeat now – hearing it pick up in pace a little.   
  
“Yes.”   
  
Latula sighed. “That sounds nice.”   
  
A sigh in return – a mixture of happiness and a strange kind of bitterness that Latula couldn’t quite place. And a moment of pause.   
  
“Yeah. It does.”

* * *

The radio crackled to life and Latula’s eyes snapped open.

Meenah: Latula? You got out? Fuckin’ right on, bitch!   
Meenah: We’re clear of the moon already – everyone’s here… I mean, except for Vriska anyway.

Even over the radio, Latula could hear some kind of smug satisfaction at that last comment.

Meenah: Felt coms are down all over, so I don’t know if you’ll get this.   
Meenah: We’re gonna head for the Launch Center – if you can meet us there, go for it.   
Meenah: If not… fuck… I hope you’re all good. Mituna took a beating in the end there but I think he’ll be okay. Find us when we get back down… it looks like things are gonna be weird down there for a while.

The radio dissolved into static, but it was okay.

“I heard,” Aradia said from her seat in the front. “We’ll try to set down near the launch center and meet up with them. This ship is not well-equipped for monitoring communications, but I am attempting to scan through Alternian frequencies.”

Latula nodded a closed her eyes again. “Anything interesting?”

“That depends,” Aradia responded. “Do you find the concept of an all-out civil war to be an interesting development?”

Oddly enough, Latula couldn’t quite bring herself to process it. She squeezed Damara’s hand – a gesture that was weakly returned. They would figure things out back on the ground.

For now…

For now she had this, and that was enough.


	66. Revelations in Starlight

Meenah was watching when Mituna convulsed and in that moment she knew everything was about to change. A second passed, and then the impact hit. If they weren’t all strapped into their jumpseats, it would’ve easily knocked them over. The ship shifted and Horuss yelled out.

“The ground’s caving in! We need to launch now!” He frantically adjusted the controls, trying to launch as soon as possible.

“Please tell me you’re got this shit,” Meenah growled from her spot in the co-pilot’s seat. She could hear Porrim inhale sharply from further back, and Terezi swearing at them from her place in a restraint harness.

The others…

There wasn’t anything to be done now. Either they could wait and the entire ship would fall into the collapsing under-structure of the Green Moon, or they could launch and at least some of them would survive. It didn’t feel right to be sacrificing so many but… what choice did she have?

Horuss jammed the throttle forward and the ship’s engines roared to life, pushing them off the surface of the Green Moon and further accelerating the collapsing rubble below. The window in front showed the dime field of stars with the shining beacon that was Alternia in the middle of it.

Shining beacon of _what,_ exactly?

The force of acceleration pressed her back into the jumpseat and she grimaced – she’d never really get used to this feeling. Despite her upbringing, almost all of her travel had been planetside. Why leave Alternia for the filthy colony worlds unless…

A pain stabbed at her heart. It was so easy to slip the mask on over her face – to act like she wasn’t feeling anything at all. She had been expected, due to her station, to be above the rest. To show a kind of indifference that she’d never felt truly comfortable with. What good was living life if you weren’t allowed to show any passion? What good was any of it if you couldn’t just choose to love someone?

She couldn’t turn to look at Porrim, but she wanted to. Maybe that would be something… and maybe not. It was impossible to tell right now. Shared grief wasn’t the most stable foundation for a relationship, after all. And she missed Aranea.

None of them had been perfect, but they’d been trying to be better. At least for a little while.

Meenah settled back into the jumpseat and closed her eyes as the press of the ship’s acceleration gradually faded away.

* * *

Free-fall – her guts suspended in mid-air inside of a body that was strapped in tightly. A strange sensation, and one she didn’t feel like she’d ever want to get used to. At least she wasn’t throwing up.

From the back, Terezi was still swearing. Threatening her. Meenah took a deep breath.

“You dumb fucking bitch,” she called back to Terezi. “What makes you think that your little red crush or whatever was owed anything more than she got?”

“Fuck you!” Terezi shot back – Meenah could practically hear her straining in the harness.

“I know you’re used to being the queen shit of fuck mountain or whatever, but she was an evil piece of garbage who murdered…” Meenah felt the words catch in her throat. “Who murdered the woman I loved. She deserved what happened and I’ll never be sorry.”

“The Empire won’t forget this!” Terezi yelled back. Meenah laughed at her.

“The Empire?!” She laughed again – it wasn’t even worth responding to.

* * *

They were orbiting the Green Moon for a few minutes when Mituna began to wake up. He groaned loudly and shifted in his jumpseat. Carefully, he removed the Felt wetware and blinked.

“My head fucking hurts,” he said. “I hope it worked…”

From the pilot’s seat, he heard Horuss grunt. “I would say it has. I will show you.”

The monitors in the front of the cabin changed to show views from the cameras that lined the side of the ship. The Green Moon hung suspended in the black, and it had a massive portion already caved-in, with additional bits of the surface falling away.

“Holy fuck shit,” Meenah said. She turned back to look at Porrim – she wasn’t smiling, but she looked satisfied. “Guess we fucking did it?”

“I wonder though,” Porrim replied, “what it is we did, exactly.”

“The Deep Felt is… it’s gone,” Mituna said quietly. “I’m seeing some local networks but the access speed is vastly reduced. Everything that used the Deep Felt as a medium is down.”

Horuss nodded and lowered his head. “This will mean that the colony worlds… all the ships out there… they will all be cut off.”

“Yeah,” Mituna agreed. “Unless they have standard navigational systems and even then… even with a helmsman, the time it would take to get back here is going to be longer than ever. They relied so completely on using the Deep Felt for everything.”

Meenah tuned out of the conversation – a lot of the technicalities were beyond what she understood. And right now, she didn’t care. Instead, she let her mind drift and closed her eyes again. Everything was about to change – had already changed. Whatever Scratch had been, exactly, she had a feeling he was gone. At least gone for a while.

Everything else… they’d have to figure that all out.

* * *

“As far as I can tell, it’s complete chaos down there,” Mituna was saying. He’d been able to patch in to planetary local communications and start to get some idea of what was going on below. From the radio chatter, communications and command structure had begun to break down on both sides. Chaos.

The Alternian forces, suddenly and permanently cut off from any communications involving the Deep Felt, were thrown into disarray as they tried to rally using tight-beam and short-range comms. All of the forces fighting on behalf of Scratch were no doubt in the same boat, and the two sides were trying to figure themselves out while also still being very much at each other’s throats.

“Planetary local networks are overloaded… I see some signs that a couple folks are trying to build local Felt patch-nets but that hasn’t been done in twenty sweeps. All the planetary orbital systems are offline – Scratch must’ve burned them when he took over and now they’re all down. Just kind of… hanging there.”

That was reassuring – at least they wouldn’t have to worry about being blasted out of the sky by anyone. It was a start, anyway.

The ship’s short-range radio crackled to life. The voice that came out was distorted – bounced off of relays and stored in already-overloaded comm buffers. But it was unmistakable.

Latula: This is Latula… I hope…   
Latula: I hope you’re okay.

Meenah’s heart jumped in her chest and she grabbed the comm receiver.

“Latula? You got out? Fuckin’ right on, bitch! We’re clear of the moon already – everyone’s here… I mean, except for Vriska anyway.” She paused and a small smile of grim satisfaction played over her face. “Felt coms are down all over, so I don’t know if you’ll get this. We’re gonna head for the Launch Center – if you can meet us there, go for it. If not… fuck… I hope you’re all good. Mituna took a beating in the end there but I think he’ll be okay. Find us when we get back down… it looks like things are gonna be weird down there for a while.”

The radio squelched and burst into static. Hopefully the transmission was received – but at least one of them had survived and gotten to their ship. If Latula was still alive, there was a good chance that Damara and the others were too. That was something.

Meenah craned her neck to look back at Terezi.

“You’re on the wrong fucking side of this, bitch,” she said. Terezi glowered but said nothing. “We’re gonna land and then we’re gonna figure out what the fuck we do next. We’re gonna meet up with our friends… because we fuckin’ have those.”

She waited, but Terezi was still quiet.

“So either you can put aside whatever weird shit you had with Vriska and agree to walk away back to the ruins of your life in the Authority, or you and I can go toe-to-toe and settle this.”

The tone in her voice left nothing to be guessed at. Terezi might be combat-trained and she might be resilient, but Meenah was angry in a way that was hard to describe. She’d had her whole life turned upside-down… seen the person she wanted to run away with end up dead… seen the people she cared about hurt again and again.

She was willing to cut Terezi loose as a gesture of good faith… but only just barely.

“What is it, bitch? You got anything to say about that?” Meenah asked.

Terezi frowned, and finally spoke. “No. When we hit the ground I’m gone.”

That was good enough. Whatever happened down the road was a matter for another day. Meenah turned back and settled into her seat as Mituna and Horuss began to plot the course back down to Alternia.

The road ahead was a long one – there was no doubt about that. Everything was changing. The Alternian Fleet would be irreparably damaged by the loss of the Deep Felt. So many of the long-range communications technologies were built on that platform, and now it had all been ripped away. The Green Moon was crumbling, and whatever entity had been working its way through had been, at least for the time being, pushed back. The Empress was likely stranded thousands of sweeps from Alternia, possibly never able to find her way back.

The next steps would be uncertain, and the ones after those, and so on and so forth. But for the first time that she could remember, Meenah found herself filled with an almost completely foreign emotion.

For the first time, _she felt hope._


	67. Abbadon Defiant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter of Plasticine Soul! I'd like to thank all my lovely readers for sticking with me throughout! This is the longest single work I've written yet, and it's been a hell of a ride to write it!

**The Far Reaches, Imperial Flagship Trident**

Jhelon Tirion, the 8th Fleet Over-Commander was lucky only insomuch as she hadn’t been the one plugged into the nav console when it happened. A sudden surge and the officer on duty for navigation – a jade blood – had screamed. A sound that the over-commander would never forget. Jhelon had been on station on the bridge when she heard the sound and the officer thrashed so hard that he ripped the wetware out of its harness and smashed himself onto the floor. He hadn’t gotten up again.

At the same time, all of their comms went down. The only thing still working was the local communications. A quick check-in with the other ships in the Fleet using tight-beam confirmed that the same thing had happened. A sudden and complete cessation of all access to the Deep Felt across the entire Fleet. There was no way it was a coincidence.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Her Imperious Condescension herself walked onto the deck of the Trident. Jhelon snapped into a salute as the Empress walked by, glaring at the nav console and the still-warm body of the jade blood who’d been on navigation duty.

“I am disappointed.” The Empress spoke in a voice that was soft, but somehow carried into every corner of the room and echoed into Jhelon’s mind. “I trust that this is only a minor setback?”

She didn’t want to have to say it, but she was afraid she had no choice. “Your Majesty – the entire Fleet has unilaterally lost all access to the Deep Felt. It’s as if…” Jhelon steeled herself before she repeated what one of the other jade officers had told her. “As if the entire thing has simply vanished.”

Somehow, the Empress didn’t seem surprised by this. Instead, she nodded calmly. Her face was grim, accentuated by the way her flowing hair was pulled back into a sharp pony-tail behind her head.

“I see,” she said in that same too-quiet voice that had no right to sound as utterly omnipresent as it did. “That is unfortunate. What is the closest colony?”

Jhelon checked the notepad she always carried with her – she’d been expecting this question. “There is a colony world nearby – 4729D, specifically. Nothing especially noteworthy – a Legislacerator is currently stationed there and conducting an investigation into the death of the former colony Commander. The current commander is Kissai Zalska.”

“Are we within communications range?” The Empress leaned over and Jhelon realized just how nervous she was feeling.

“Yes, your Majesty. A tight-beam burst will arrive five day-cycles ahead of us. We’re currently approximately one perigee out.”

“Very well. Set a course for the colony, Over-Commander. We will take stock of our situation once we have arrived.”

“Yes, your Majesty!” Jhelon gave the Empress another crisp salute – the Empress waved dismissively and turned to walk off the bridge. But as she was halfway out, she stopped and turned back.

“Over-Commander, I have one other matter.”

Jhelon nodded. “Of course, your Majesty!”

The Empress sighed – a noise that sounded as if it carried the weight of hundreds of sweeps behind it. And given how old the Empress was purported to be… it did.

“While we are underway, put out a general call through the 8th Fleet to any who showed special aptitude for the Felt in the past. If the Deep Felt is truly lost to us...”

She sighed again. “Then I will require a new helmsman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end! I will definitely be working on sequels, including a novelized version of my incomplete fan adventure "The Blood Will Wash Out" - subscribe to me on AO3 for all kinds of great fanfic content!

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader, I really appreciate you taking the time to read through my work! If you enjoyed it, please leave kudos or a comment - I'll try to respond to comments as I'm able.
> 
> [Follow me on Twitter @AltUniverseWash](https://twitter.com/AltUniverseWash)
> 
> If you're interested in my non-Homestuck writing, I write, produce, and voice a gothic horror podcast called [The Alabaster Bible](https://twitter.com/AlabasterBible) that's pretty awesome - available on iTunes, Google Play Music, and Spotify!


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